Fix Me
by dennybrose
Summary: "Although the light was dim as ever, his blue eyes shot through the dark to meet her green ones. That was enough to stop her from walking abruptly and bite the corner of her lip."
1. Chapter 1

Walking down the dark street, four young women laughed, one of them throwing her head back and stumbling to the side of the sidewalk. Carrying handbags and iPhones, they continued to Erickson's (not the most popular bar in town but the one with the best crowd), their heels smacking against the wet pavement. The blonde in the group, Scarlett, slowed down as the rest of the girls walked ahead to the bar.

"I'll be there in a second!" she yelled, looking at her iPhone. One of the girls turned around and stopped, rolling her eyes and letting her friends continue as she ran back to Scarlett.

"You're not seriously gonna text him again, are you?"

"Ev…" Scarlett looked up from her phone, sighing heavily as she studied the brown, frustrated eyes of one of her best friends. "I just wanna see if he wants to grab some drinks."

"He obviously doesn't if he keeps ignoring your other thousands of texts asking the same god damn thing…!" Eva put a hand on her hip, watching as Scarlett looked away, rubbing her tongue against the inside of her cheek. After a pensive, uncomfortable moment she turned back to her phone and continued texting, much to Eva's chagrin. The brunette dropped her hand at her side and turned to the bar, shaking her head.

"I'll be there in a second, okay?" Scarlett yelled after her. Eva threw a hand up before walking up the steps and pushing the bar door open.

**_Charlie_**  
_prob 4th time im texting…just wanna see if you wanna meet us ericksons thats all_

She held her index finger over the screen, reading the text over before pressing 'SEND' and sighing again. Four months ago she never would've sent this text. She was ready to move on from Charlie, a person who, over time, turned into a legend within her circle of friends, someone so unbelievably outrageous that it had to be a lie. He had to be a made-up character with his lothario-like disposition and his blatant disregard for Scarlett's feelings. Maybe it was his boyish charm and penchant for the same favorite football team that turned her on to him; she'll never remember why she found him in the first place. All she knew was that the more he begged to see her after their break-up four months ago, the more a soft spot in her heart grew to the point where she found herself here, in this pathetic state constantly texting him and giving him fuel to ridicu-

A loud crash from the alleyway next to the bar startled Scarlett out of her thoughts as she looked to her left.

"Christ!" A male voice griped, its slightly nasal touch intriguing Scarlett enough to investigate.

She looked at her phone for a second for any updates – none – and then back up at the dark walkway. A tall figure, a man presumably, threw itself back-first against the brick wall of the bar, the head down and the ankles crossing. Scarlett tried to make out who it was under the dim light, but all she saw was a dirty blond mop top and black leather boots under boot cut jeans.

"…Hello?" she called out.

He didn't say anything. Scarlett looked ahead of her before returning her gaze.

"Are you…okay?" she asked, starting to walk into the alleyway but the person lifted his head finally. And although the light was dim as ever, his blue eyes shot through the dark to meet her green ones. That was enough to stop her from walking abruptly and bite the corner of her lip. "Sorry." She backed away and immediately walked into the bar, not bothering to look back.

An hour and a half passed since their arrival, and the girls were sitting at a window table, enjoying some worthy gossip and a few beers. Scarlett avoided drinking alcohol however, and swapped her beer with Olivia for a soda.

"So I told him, 'if you wanna play games go ahead, but I'm not doing that shit tonight; I'm too damn tired.' And he just looked at me like a pouty little bitch and left," Eva shrugged, shaking her head. "He hasn't called in two days, but whatever. He doesn't pay my bills." She and Olivia shared a high-five across the table as Scarlett and Rachael smiled at each other. "That's what Scarlett needs to get through that pretty little head of hers."

"Hey, this isn't the Pick on Scarlett Hour," Olivia said, holding a hand up. "That comes later." The girls giggled before Rachael cleared her throat, looking at the doorway.

"Looks like it's coming now, just not from us," she said. The girls looked at her, then followed her gaze to the door, where standing with an arrogant pout was Charlie, dressed in a baby blue V-neck tee and dark wash skinny jeans. He captured the attention of plenty of other girls in the bar, but he turned his to the window table where Scarlett sat.

"I'm gonna kill you for inviting that jackass," Eva muttered in Scarlett's direction. She took a swig of beer, looking away as Charlie approached their table.

"Hey Scarlett," he yelled over the music. Scarlett gave him a small and forced smile, studying his constantly scoping out the bar rather than looking at her. When she looked back at her friends, he turned back to her and leaned down close to her ear. "Thanks for texting me a million times. I was really busy but I wanted to hang anyways."

"Oh, I'm sorry for bothering you if you were busy," she yelled in his ear. "I just figured you wanted to bring your friends or something…"

"Nah," he responded, shaking his head and sliding a bar stool up beside her at the table. "Really come to think of it I might leave; this isn't really my thing now that I look around." The last song ended as he yelled this, letting the entire table hear him. All three girls rolled their eyes as Scarlett looked down, rubbing her lips together.

"Then why did you come, Charles?" Eva yelled at him as another song started up.

"I felt like seeing Scarlett, thank you," he yelled back, starting to wrap his arm around his supposed fling's shoulders before Eva slapped it away. "Eva, seriously…?"

She put her bottle of beer down on the table, then wiggled her fingers at him as Olivia and Rachael looked away purposefully. Scarlett continued to keep her head down while Charlie stared at Eva in disbelief.

"Are you kidding me right now?" he asked. "Scarlett…" She finally looked back up at him, shaking her head slowly.

"You should probably go since this isn't your thing, like you said." She turned back to the table as Charlie scoffed, throwing his arms up.

Unknowingly, however, when he threw his right hand up he knocked a cup of beer onto the patron who bought it: a tall, portly man with a dark beard and his black hair in a ponytail. Charlie turned to the man, giving him an annoyed once-over before picking his plastic cup up from the wooden floor.

"Sorry about that, _chief_," he yelled, slapping the cup against the man's black dress shirt. He didn't take too kindly to it, however, taking the cup in his hand and throwing it back in Charlie's face without hesitation. "Okay, I get it." Charlie held his hands up, backing away from the man with a smirk on his face.

Without looking behind him, he bumped into someone else: another tall man, this time with the same mop top Scarlett saw outside. She looked at the rest of his stature and it was exactly who she tried to talk to earlier: the same leather boots, same jeans – but under more lighting, she saw they were ripped at the knees, and he additionally sported a white t-shirt that accentuated his large arms.

Charlie turned around to face him, laughing to himself as he dropped his hands and looked over this guy as well with even more arrogance.

"I guess you're gonna get into it with me too, right?" he asked, nodding and looking away. The two men simply stared at him with not a hint of emotion, as the bar slowly realized the situation at hand and helplessly froze. The girls at the table were definitely emotionally attached to the situation, however, as they glued their eyes to the scene. Scarlett was especially keeping an eye on the blond.

"What's goin' on here?" A bartender, just a bit shorter than the men, had turned off the music and approached the scene with no fear whatsoever. He wiped his hands on a white towel he carried with him, standing beside the bearded man, who took this time to speak up in a rather creepy, raspy voice.

"Nothin', man," he said while shaking his head. "This guy was gettin' ready to leave, actually." Charlie glared at him, snarling almost before turning back to the other guy.

"Hey, Blue Shirt, I'd suggest you take that hint," the bartender said, pointing his towel-covered hand to the door. "Windham and Dean here don't play around."

Charlie chuckled, placing his hands on his hips as he turned back to the table with the girls. He kept laughing, almost expecting them to back him up – but they simply looked away and sipped their drinks. Easily outnumbered, Charlie rubbed his lips together, nodding slowly and quickly exiting the bar, taking his phone out of his back jean pocket. The crowd inside, meanwhile, had a simultaneous moment of small laughter before the music restarted and they continued on. The bartender returned to work, winking at Windham, who nodded in return and walked back to the bar, as Dean rubbed his hands together.

"We should hire those guys to get rid of that asshole every day," Eva said, slapping her hand on the table. While Dean was leaving back outside, Scarlett immediately rushed from the table and left after him, her friends confused but watching her from outside the window.

Outside, she grabbed him by his left arm, her hand barely even wrapping around his bicep as she pulled him to catch his attention. He turned around, jaw clenched and looking at her hand on his arm, then back at her with wide eyes.

"Hey, I…I'm sorry for that," she said, releasing his arm. "He's an ex-boyfriend, and a complete tool…I don't even know why I bother…" She looked down, then back up at him as his eyes calmed. They had a bit of understanding in them, something she hadn't seen in a man in too long. She was completely caught off guard that her mouth opened, but nothing else came out. He studied her face, his eyes narrowing as he waited for her – but she didn't say a thing.

"SCARLETT!" She broke her trance immediately, turning back to see Charlie with his hands out and an incredulous look on his face. "What the hell is this?"

"HEY!" Dean yelled right back, putting his arm in front of Scarlett and gently pushing her aside, starting toward Charlie. "We're not inside anymore, _chief_. Let's go."

Charlie chuckled again, putting up fists and doing his best Mayweather impersonation as Dean walked up to him so casually, finally within arm's distance and throwing a hard punch to his jaw. Scarlett covered her mouth, not letting a sound escape as Charlie stumbled back and Dean wasted no time lifting him off the ground and slamming him into the brick wall next to the window. He went in with two hard punches to the midsection, then pushed Charlie up by the potentially broken jaw so they were face-to-face again. Studying the fear in his eyes as blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, Dean bit his lip and held his stare on Charlie for what seemed like eternity. Charlie gasped through his clenched teeth, letting a little blood spatter on Dean's face before he clutched his wrist and desperately tried to break the grip as it tightened even more.

"Do yourself a favor and don't _ever_ come back here," Dean whispered, uncomfortably close to Charlie's right cheek. "Or I'll have your head on a damn stick." He returned to a more straightened posture, then effortlessly released Charlie and dropped his arm to his side. Charlie clutched at his ribs, coughing as he stumbled off, a hint of anger on his face but much more intensive pain. Dean watched him only for a couple of seconds before turning back around and shaking his hand out, wiping the blood off his face.

Scarlett stared at him with almost the same stare she held before Charlie intervened, this time with more shock and awe. He stopped in front of her en route to going back inside the bar, looking at her with the same calm eyes as before.

"I'll bother," he said and walked back inside.

She completely forgot what he was referring to, but it only intrigued her even more.


	2. Chapter 2

The girls had bolted after that fiasco and took a bus back, Olivia accompanying an inebriated Rachael back to her apartment, while Scarlett and Eva went back to their shared quarters just a few miles further. The entire ride, while her friends were still talking each other's ears off, Scarlett went back to the night's earlier events: the faceless guy under the light, the quietness – suddenly those blue eyes that struck her like cold water to the face. Nothing about him was particularly intriguing or attractive, but for some reason she couldn't stop re-imagining his face once it shaped itself in her mind. Every curve, every damp strand of his hair that reached just above his eyes…features she couldn't describe if they belonged to Charlie. She was haunted, and she wasn't even sure if she liked it or not.

Sitting on her white couch opposite a near-exhausted Eva, Scarlett held her head up by her right hand, the arm rested on the back of the couch. She looked past Eva, a seemingly blank but thoughtful expression on her face as Eva continued talking. That face kept coming back to her, and the details became more prominent to the point where she lost track of anything else going on.

"I mean can you imagine if Charlie goes back there and then we find out in the news that that guy and his friend got killed by some prep in a pink polo shirt?" She chuckled, looking away before recognizing that Scarlett wasn't laughing along with her. She looked at her best friend, studying her stare, then turning around to see just what she was staring at: the marble kitchen counter and the white fridge. She turned back around and snapped her fingers in front of Scarlett's face, immediately capturing her attention. "Yo!"

"Sorry," she said, shaking the blur away from her vision and taking a breath.

"How many bar fights have you seen?" Eva asked with much skepticism in her voice. "It can't be _this_ traumatizing…"

"It's not; I just…" Scarlett sighed, looking down at her lap then back up at Eva. "That guy..."

"Yeah, what was his name anyways?" Eva looked into the distance herself, scratching her head. "The bartender said 'Windham and Dean'; which one was Dean though? Probably the fat guy; they have a tendency to have those really cool names and try to look all cool and shit."

"You're ridiculous," Scarlett replied, chuckling just a little.

"Like I'm wrong…"

"He was probably Windham and the other guy Dean."

"Or maybe that's just what you want." Eva stared down Scarlett with a crafty smirk on her face, lowering her head just a little. "Maybe you wanted that shaggy-haired Stark-looking guy to be Dean so you can call him Stark when you go back to that bar."

"What?!" Scarlett dropped her arm and sat straight, genuinely confused at the thought. Why in the world would she go back to the one place where she technically started trouble for a total stranger and a jerk ex?

"Who are you talking to other than your best friend?" Eva asked, holding a hand out. "I've known you since high school, when you were obsessed with that guy in the back of math class who ended up in juvy for beating up that one guy outside his house. That asshole basketball star in college who kept talking all that shit about you being a bad lay to the rest of the locker room. And then recently with this prick Charlie, the hot shot silver spoon-fed freeloader who you met at Starbucks and…what was it? You sat with 'a cup of perfect and handsome and a cup of cappuccino'? I've seen you pursue them…and then end up disappointed by them. Why do you do this to yourself?"

Scarlett looked down again, playing with her fingernails as Eva rubbed her lips together as if to keep anything else inside. She extended a hand to Scarlett's knee, catching her look as she raised her eyes up.

"You don't have to keep doing this to yourself," she said. Scarlett looked away, rubbing the inside of her cheek with her tongue.

"I just feel like, yeah they're creepy jerks, but they can be saved," Scarlett finally spoke up, looking back at Eva who removed her hand from her knee. "Then when I calm them down I just…I don't know, I try to think of their outbursts as just moments they'll get over and then they'll love me again, or something. I just…I know they're nice guys underneath; they're just too scared to show it."

"Maybe Math Class Matt," Eva responded with a small smirk. "Maybe even Mr. NBA himself Nick, but Charlie? Charlie's a type-A, grade-A, first-class punk who's too busy being insecure about himself to be a boyfriend to you. He cheated on you, TWICE, and broke up with you willingly to cheat on OTHER GIRLS while trying to lure you back because he knows you're weak. If you think that warrants a second chance then lady, I don't know what to tell you."

"You don't have to tell me anything," Scarlett said with just a touch of sass she once threw out at every chance she got. Since this last disaster of a relationship, everything about her slowly faded away to the point where she wasn't even sure who she was. "But it's good you at least let me talk. I tried to tell the same thing to Rachael and she just dismissed everything I was trying to explain."

"Well Rachael doesn't have patience for anything," Eva said while standing up, adjusting her pajama bottoms. "She can't even deal with getting her keys out of her purse – and after tonight you wanna add her being buzzed to that equation? Good luck." She started toward her bedroom that sat at the end of the short hallway beside the kitchen before Scarlett caught her one last time.

"Should I go back to find that guy? That Stark?" she asked. Eva turned around, stretching and yawning as she gave it a thought. Once she was finished, she smiled.

"No," she responded, shaking her head and losing her smile quickly. "After you watch a guy beat the shit out of someone and he wasn't even wearing a jacket on this cold-ass night, no. And with that hair? He's trouble."

"What's wrong with his hair?"

"And didn't he have holes in his jeans? Please don't. All of that is just a screaming hot mess that you don't need to try and 'fix.'" She turned back towards her bedroom, walking away as Scarlett shook her head.

"Goodnight, picky," she yelled out.

"It's for your own good, sticky!"

* * *

"You two are too much ruckus for this bar," bartender Scott said with a smirk, slamming two beer bottles on the counter. With the crowd significantly smaller, the room was calmer and quieter to the point where regular conversation was passable. "But I appreciate the free security."

"Whoa, hey now," Windham cut in as he pulled the cap off the bottle. "Who said anythin' about it bein' free?"

"These beers are on the house aren't they?" Scott replied while wiping down the other side of the counter. Windham laughed to himself, taking a seat beside a quiet Dean who didn't even bother to open his beer. Windham took a sip while studying his friend of a short two years – but based on what they've gone through it felt like they've known each other for years. He could always read what was on Dean's mind – but right now couldn't be any less clear.

"Need somebody to open that for ya?" he asked, nudging the beer closer to Dean's folded arms resting over the counter. After a headshake saying "no," Windham sighed heavily, putting his bottle down reluctantly and folding his arms over the counter as well, staring a hole into his comrade. "If you're ever feelin' guilty about givin' that guy an ass whoopin', just remember he ruined my good shirt."

"It's that girl," Dean said, looking straight ahead. He narrowed his eyes, seemingly studying the shelves of liquor – but the green label on one of the bottles reminded him of the bright green eyes he stared into earlier, eyes that looked scared but more upset, exhausted, lifeless. He hadn't seen a female look as distressed as he saw her, even though she was absolutely stunning in the rest of her features.

"Ahh, that blonde," Windham said while stroking his beard. "Yeah, she was pretty fine I'll admit…whatever her name wa-"

"_Scarlett_," Dean snapped back. Windham leaned back in amazement, chuckling before taking a sip of beer. "Sorry, it's…her name was Scarlett. That dick made sure the world knew who he was trying to keep around."

"Well we got rid of him, so you're all good, man."

"No, man, you don't get it." He turned to Windham, loosening his posture. "I'm tired of seeing that shit. I'm tired of seeing some scumbag show up, act like some chick who doesn't even need his ass will do anything for him, and then when he doesn't get his way he makes a big scene out of it and suddenly she gets the brunt of the bullshit. Everything's her fault, she's stupid for this and that, she's just a bitch. You know how many times I had to hear that same shit from all those guys who took from my mom and now I gotta hear it when I'm just getting a beer? It's disgusting."

"How do you even know that's how their relationsh-"

"How do I know that's how their relationship was? I saw that look in her eye when she told me that was her ex-boyfriend. It was like she was ashamed to admit to someone she never even met in her life that she was associated with that prick in any way, let alone being a girlfriend. That he put her through so much abuse – I mean you said it yourself she was fine as hell, and I agree! But no woman as beautiful as her deserves to look that depressed, for Christ's sake. And she didn't get that because she lost a job, or she didn't buy the shoes she wanted; that's from getting spat on too many times." He turned forward again, lowering his gaze while Windham took another sip of beer.

That uncomfortable silence was their way of saying "I get it" – but for Dean it just made him more paranoid. Maybe he was getting too upset over someone he'll never see again. It was like watching a soap opera and getting too absorbed in characters that'll never come to life; what was the point? He beat that ex-boyfriend of hers to a bloody mess. What would he do, come back and try to pick another fight? Dean didn't have to stay at this one bar; what use would that do if he wasn't even there anymore?

And what about Scarlett? Where'd she go with her protective circle of friends? More importantly why'd he care so damn much? That sadness and desperation for some kind of help just stayed glued in his mind as he tapped his fist on the table.

"So what are you gonna do?"

The question caught Dean so off guard he quickly looked up at Windham, confused as ever as his arms unfolded. "What do you mean what am I gonna do?" he asked, still looking at him with furrowed eyebrows.

"Are you gonna find her or what?" Windham asked, keeping his attention off Dean who exaggerated a baffled expression while looking away and back at his profile. "I know you're lookin' at me like I'm outta my mind but the way you talked about her just now says to me that you tryna fix all that pain."

"_Me?_ Fix someone else's pain?" Dean emphasized, still baffled. "Who the hell are you talking to right now?"

"I'm talkin' to the guy who knows what's goin' on…and also knows what he wants." Windham turned, finally, to face Dean, a look of confidence on his face as Dean looked away, contemplating the idea. "You made a life out of gettin' lucky in the shittiest circumstances. This ain't no different." Dean shook his head however, pushing his tongue against the top left of his teeth.

"It is different," he said. "She wouldn't want anything to do with me."

"Oh come on now," Windham replied, slapping his hand on Dean's right shoulder. "Who would resist you? You're like one of them puppies in a store window just waitin' to be loved."

"You…you just compared me to a dog." Dean looked at his now-supposed buddy with a forced smile. "Because 'street dog' isn't already pointless enough?"

"It was the only thing I could think of; damn," Windham said with much defeat, removing his hand from Dean's shoulder. "You one of them lonely rabbits or hamsters in them cages waitin' to be loved then; I don't know…"

"How about you just say I have some kind of shot with an attractive female?" Dean patted Windham on his shoulder, grabbing his less cold bottle of beer with his other hand. "Thanks, man, you're great motivation."

"Yeah whatever," Windham said, shaking his head and taking another sip.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** Hello! Just wanted to say thank you everyone who's been commenting on this story so far. I have a huge interest in writing and finishing this and I'm glad an audience also appreciates it ;_; Ok bye go read

* * *

_Two days later_

Scarlett hugged her pink pajama-covered knees to her chest, smiling warmly at "It still isn't over" and then the kiss in the rain.

"Seriously?" Eva walked into the living room, attaching a diamond earring to her right earlobe. "How many times are you…forget it, it's a silly question."

"It's a relaxing Saturday; what else am I gonna do?" Scarlett released her legs, dropping them into a pretzel-style position as she plopped her hands in her lap. It was then she recognized how dressed-up Eva looked: black scoop neck tee, black blazer, floral print skirt, and platform stilettos. With those diamond earrings, it only meant one thing: she had a date. "Not play third wheel to you, I hope."

"No, my dear, sweet best friend," Eva sung, grabbing Scarlett by the wrists and yanking her to her feet. "You, myself, Olivia and Rachael – the whole gang – are going out tonight and you're gonna get your mind off of Charlie and the White T-Shirt Crusader." She dragged Scarlett by one wrist to her bedroom as Scarlett shook her head in protest.

"Listen," she started to plead. "That's a fantastic gesture and I love you guys for it but I'm not in the mood…" Eva swung her to her bed where she sat on the edge almost lifelessly, dropping her hands in her lap again as her loyal and tenacious companion started digging through her closet. "All of my dresses are at the cleaners…"

"Not this one," Eva said, slowly turning around to reveal a red cup sleeve dress Scarlett hadn't seen in years. "It's perfect: it just screams, 'I'm here to have a good time and show I'm fierce.'"

"I wore that at our college graduation," Scarlett said with a skeptical smile.

"Which is why it's perfect!" Eva threw the dress over Scarlett's head and turned back around, this time digging at the bottom of the closet for coordinating shoes. "If you just trust me, you'll see that you need this. We're not doing anything special; just going to a fancy restaurant downtown and having a bomb-ass meal. Then after that, we come back here and we can watch your little Ryan Gosling sobfest with some ice cream or gossip about life. Whatever." She rose up with cream-colored pumps as Scarlett lifted the dress off her head, sighing heavily at Eva. "You need to hang out with your girls and not worry about these men. You worry about them, you're stuck looking like…how you look now."

"A train wreck?"

"Your words, not mine. Now go shower." She placed the shoes on the floor beside the bed, putting her hands on her hips as she waited for Scarlett to move. The blonde finally did, albeit lazily – but as a sign of gratefulness she embraced Eva for just a moment. Eva saw the tension lift from her best friend's face as they looked at each other, a genuine smile growing on Scarlett's face for the first time in months. "Please stop staring at me like that though; you're creeping me out."

Scarlett laughed and walked to the bathroom as Eva shook her head, tidying the red dress and laying it perfectly on the bed.

* * *

After a long car ride across town, the four girls settled in the middle of an elaborate steakhouse, laughing and dining – but particularly for Scarlett, laughing, dining, and actually living. There were countless times when they'd all gone out and while Scarlett appeared to be enjoying herself, she couldn't feel a thing inside. It was as if she was locked in a glass case, watching everyone around her breathe and enjoy life but she couldn't, and there was no way to break out of it.

This was finally a night where she dressed for herself, avoided conflict, and did something for herself. She breathed in new air and it gave her so much life in return. Eva noticed it as well as she sat across from her, watching her genuine laughter at the lamest jokes and bringing up movie quotes applicable to the moment – the old Scarlett.

"I'm such an idiot though," Olivia laughed, shaking an auburn-colored curl from her face. "I was like, 'But Mr. Gregory, how am I supposed to get those orders when I don't even have the name they're under?' And he looked at me forever until he said, 'The company name, woman!' I was so red in the face, oh my God. I don't deserve this job, you guys."

"Aww, yes you do," Scarlett assured her, patting her on the shoulder. "Besides, they're just advertisement copies; it's not like he asked you to pick up something outrageous like…I don't know…"

"His mistress's dry cleaning?" Rachael suggested behind her glass of red wine, an eyebrow cocked as Eva laughed beside her.

"…How did you know about her?!" Olivia hissed. It was much to the rest of the table's shock as they collectively burst out laughing, Scarlett holding a hand to her chest and keeping her attention on Olivia.

"Are you serious though?" she asked between chuckles.

"My boss is a dog," Olivia responded, shaking her head and taking a large swig of her own glass of wine. "I'm not supposed to be talking about this but I saw them yesterday in his office making out. I was supposed to relay dinner reservations…with his wife! Can you believe that?!"

"It's sad and all, but I love office drama," Eva said, leaning in her chair a bit with a sly smile. "Especially your office; some of the people you work with are absolute nimrods."

As the girls continued their gossip, Scarlett excused herself from the table, pulling on her blazer and taking her handbag with her to the back exit. It was there she took out her iPhone, what she hadn't been looking at all day, and saw ten unopened text messages, all from Charlie. She poked her bottom lip with her red thumb nail, staring at the bright screen and contemplating whether to sabotage her own evening. Nevertheless, with those messages on her mind, she rushed outside to get some air, nearly running down the small flight of metal stairs before colliding shoulders with a much broader person hanging around that stairway. She dropped her iPhone in the process, cracking the screen as it hit the gravelly pavement.

While she held her hand to her forehead, flustered by that incident, the light outside the building illuminated the face of the man she bumped into, and who was now holding her iPhone out to her: the same one from the bar. Same blond, mopped hair reaching just above his sharp blue eyes, same face – new black t-shirt and black leather jacket, but ripped jeans and leather boots.

"…You…" was the first thing that escaped from her mouth as her eyes widened. He looked at her just the same, but quickly cleared his throat and pushed her phone at her to take and even averted his eyes to it.

"Your phone's for shit," he said, starting to fidget as she looked down at his hand. The bright screen was black but she forgot what she was even using it for. Regardless, she took it out of his hand, closing her mouth, and was about to speak again but as she looked up, he was already turned around and hustling away.

"Wait!" she called out and he stopped. He cracked his neck a bit and turned back to her, biting his lower lip.

"Look, your boyfriend just picked the wrong side of town to prance into," he said nonchalantly.

"_Ex_-boyfriend…"

"Whatever. I can't apologize for breaking his glass jaw but I apologize you had to see that, alright?" Feeling a combination of contentedness and wanting to kick himself for saying all that, Dean turned around slowly to head in the direction he was going.

"I wanted to thank you…!" she yelled back at him, just waiting for him to turn around. He stopped walking, but he kept his back to her and dropped his head. "He deserved to get his ass kicked and I…I'm glad you did it…" He still didn't turn around, which made her clench her jaw a bit. "Can you at least tell me your name?"

He raised his head back up slowly, his shoulders raising and dropping before turning his head very slowly back to her. Her heart started to race as she kept her wide eyes on him.

"Dean," he said and turned his head back, shaking out a kink. "Dean Ambrose." She was right, and Eva was right in her wishing that was his name because it just fit for some reason.

"I'm-"

"Scarlett, I know," he cut in, still not turning fully around to her. "Scarlett what?"

"Hawthorne."

"Like the book." She smiled as he kicked some gravel. "You don't have a baby with that guy, do you?"

"No," she laughed. "The 'A' is for 'angelic,' I swear."

"I'll bet."

He cringed at that comment, easily feeling her appreciation – possibly desperate attachment – and then hearing small crunches of the gravel getting louder behind him. He cleared his throat, directing those footsteps to stop, and he started walking.

"You're seriously gonna walk away?" she yelled out to him again as he kept walking.

"Yeah," he yelled back, putting his hands in his jeans pockets. Scarlett sighed, looking away and shaking her head. Maybe it was best that she didn't get to know him better; she didn't even know why he was here on the other side of town. She wouldn't be able to find out since he was so evasive, which sunk her eager heart.

She turned around, putting her shattered phone in her handbag and starting up the steps.

"Come back to the bar tomorrow around two in the afternoon."

She stopped walking, looking out to see him with his hands still in his pockets, looking right at her. "What, do you have a whole line of guys ready to fight and show off?" She gave him a smile, and he studied it with narrow eyes. She took it as her comment being offensive and immediately stopped smiling, gulping and looking away. He let out a hearty chuckle as he kept his eyes on her.

"You shouldn't be afraid of me," he shrugged. Scarlett scoffed at him, straightening her posture and shaking back some of her loose curls.

"I'm not afraid of you."

"If you show up tomorrow, then I'll believe you."

With that smile long gone, he turned around slowly and finally proceeded walking away, leaving Scarlett standing on the staircase. She wasn't afraid of him. What was there to be afraid of? He was just some guy in boots, jeans and a leather jacket, lurking in the shadows and being silent; not exactly something to run away from. Sure he punched Charlie's lights out and potentially broke his ribs, but Charlie's alive. And what would he even do to her? Nothing, she was positive of it.

Then again, he _was_ asking her to come to a bar at 2 PM – a time when the bar will be near-deserted. And he wasn't too pleased with her stopping him and talking to him. She suddenly felt nauseous, rubbing her clammy hands together and taking deep breaths at the thought of even bothering to show up as he directed. What if he stalked her if she didn't show up?

The back door swung open and a couple of waiters stepped out, cigarettes in hand and looking ready to take a much-anticipated break. They weren't expecting to see Scarlett standing right by the doorway, and they both jumped back at the sight. A pale Scarlett glanced at them before brushing past and walking back inside, stopping for a moment to regain her composure. She stared down her table as she walked toward it, thinking about whether or not to mention what just happened. Surely they'll encourage her to not go, or try to go with her.

"Where the hell were you? You just disappeared!" Eva sat up in her chair, staring hard at a very flighty Scarlett who threw her handbag under the table and sat back in her chair, exhaling with a smile.

"What's for dessert?"


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Hello ok I would've had this published sooner but I got stuck at one point, then I got it together. This whole chapter is dedicated to Brose's brain; I think I toggled to Scarlett's emotions but I tried not to for the whole chapter. I figure it's both their story, and sometimes the girl's drama queen POV gets cheesy, so time for Ambs. **I'd like feedback specifically on his POV (like if I wrote it accurately LOL) so I can decide if I wanna write like that again, and whatever else of course.** Yay! :)

* * *

He walked into Erickson's at 1:55 and sat at the very table Scarlett and her group of friends sat that Thursday evening. He took off his black denim jacket and put it in the seat on his left with plenty of carelessness. He rubbed his hands together before folding them on the table, looking out the window.

He couldn't even begin to process what he was going to say to her. He couldn't even look at her when he saw her last night; to say something to her face-to-face at a table would be impossible, he determined. He'd just have to make it to-the-point, no beating around the bush and no jokes. Hopefully all she'll do is listen, answer a couple of questions, but get most of the answers from him and call it a day, and maybe, just maybe, if she's swayed enough, he'll see her again. But it's best to worry about this conversation first and the future later.

1:59 came all too quickly and he turned to the bar to look around. Clearly a lively crowd wasn't expected at this time of day, especially on a Sunday, but there were still some guests: a couple of middle-aged men in loosened suits playing pool; Scott every once and a while walking in and out of the back room to check stock; and by the jukebox close the bar counter was an old drunk, taking his afternoon nap and hiding his face under a dirty trucker hat. The sight made Dean smile to himself as he dropped his head, rubbing the back of his neck. The tension of waiting was killing him, so he shut his eyes.

* * *

The sound of one of the pool balls hitting another woke him suddenly, and when he looked at the clock on the wall it was 2:05. She wasn't coming then.

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his hair when he looked up at the bar door opening. It was her. He wasn't much of a fashion enthusiast but he was definitely enamored with her red plaid blouse, blue jeans, and sneakers – casual wear compared to that red dress the night before that gave him too many tingles in the appropriate places. She let her brown handbag hang over her right forearm as she looked around the bar briefly, then spotted him with his hands still folded, studying them. She approached the table, grabbing a hold of the chair.

"You're late," he said, looking up at her. She rubbed her lips together and looked everywhere but at his face.

"Sooo, do you want me to…leave?" she asked, finally catching his eyes.

"You're already here now, so you might as well sit."

She rolled her eyes as she threw her bag onto the seat next to the one she was sitting herself in. She sat back in her chair, placing her hands in her lap as she looked at him, he returning her look with a sigh.

"Looks like you're not afraid of me after all," he smirked. She raised her eyebrows with a forced smile, shaking her head.

"So why am I here, Dean Ambrose?" She didn't change positions but he unfolded his hands and stretched a little, cranking his neck.

"Well Scarlett Hawthorne, I have some questions that I'd like answered," he replied. She shrugged, signaling for him to continue. "First off, what's someone like yourself doing on this side of town, in this aesthetically, unappealing little bar with a group of friends on a Thursday night?"

She chuckled, looking away for a moment, then back at him. "Two of my friends live 10 minutes from here; myself and my best friend live 30 minutes away. We get tired of going to the same club we usually attend on that apparently-more affluent part of town, so we searched for more bars and found this little hole-in-the-wall. As for the Thursday thing, they had something to do on Friday so we picked Thursday to hang out."

"Fair enough. So what was that douchebag _ex_-boyfriend of yours doing coming around here as well?"

She grew uncomfortable, looking down and hesitating to speak.

"…I invited him."

"Why?"

Scarlett was about to answer but she stopped herself, suddenly growing agitated. "My relationship…stuff is really none of your business."

"Ahh, but that's exactly why I asked you to come…"

"To what? To give me this long speech about how I shouldn't have to deal with douchebag guys and whatnot?"

"Actually, if you let me talk for a damn second, I'll tell you something." She shut her mouth, crossing her arms over her chest while he got loose in his seat and leaned forward a bit. "I don't know what that guy's name is-"

"Charlie."

"Okay, Charlie, but that wasn't his first time at that bar. Because I only live about four buildings down from here, I frequent this place with Windham, and on two occasions within the past two months I've seen him here at Erickson's. Him and his bundles of cash he liked to show off, wearing some fancy watch his daddy probably gave him – him and his girl of the night. Two different chicks on those two occasions, and I felt bad for both of them, because while he brought them to hang out, he was busy mingling with the other girls at the bar as well for whatever reason.

"Now, I didn't have a lot of interaction with him, but one stuck out to me so much that it was justification for me kicking his ass Thursday night. See, recently, he was at the bar, already piss-drunk and scamming the other guys playing pool. I was at that end of the bar-" he pointed towards the back room "-and I wasn't saying a word. Wasn't doing anything. He stumbles over with his beer and steps on my foot, doesn't apologize, and orders another beer. I say, 'Hey, watch your step,' and he flutters a hand in my face. Harmless, whatever, no need to get all mad, I'll live with it. Later in the evening I'm by the jukebox talking with someone and he decides to walk to _that_ side of the bar, pushing me out of the way to order yet another drink. I tell him, 'If you don't watch where you're walking, man…' and he pushes me on the shoulder. I push him right back and _he_ says, 'Don't touch me you scum; my father'll sue you!' And then his date grabs him and takes him out of the bar before I could get my scummy hands on him."

Scarlett was sitting up at this point, studying Dean's face with the utmost attention and realizing he wasn't making this up just to impress her or something far-fetched; he was honestly ready to maul Charlie worse than he did had things gotten worse.

"Does that warrant a broken jaw? Beats the hell out of me, but I don't really care," he continued. "Fact of the matter is, I was tired of seeing his ass here and when he spilled Windham's drink I was elated, just _brimming_ with joy knowing that was my chance to just annihilate him."

"So you were stalking the bar from the outside then?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"I was getting some air when you found me, and then I was about to head inside when I saw what happened," he answered. "I recognized him from before and the rest was what went down."

"But is that like your thing?" Scarlett asked, sitting with near-perfect posture. "You stalk alleyways and if something goes down you'll be the first one there? I mean how the hell did you find me last night _in the downtown district_ at _that restaurant_?"

"I work downtown," he replied. "Doing what I won't say because it's 'really none of your business.' That restaurant is where I go sometimes for dinner after work, but I was in a rush to get home so I bypassed it and was walking down that alleyway. How we bumped into each other, I don't know, but that wasn't my intention."

Somehow that last comment bothered Scarlett greatly; she obviously felt nervous knowing he coincidentally ended up where she was, but part of her wanted him to look for her. For some reason she wanted to see him again.

"Well this all kinda makes better sense then," she said, looking down in reflection. "I mean, it was a bit intense to see you beating up somebody for some girl you don't even know." She looked back up at him at the end of that sentence, and he just knew she wanted him to get nervous and immediately deny that assertion so she could feel smart, like she understood him.

"Admittedly that was another reason," he responded, and he watched as she perked up, even blinking a couple of times. "I saw how he was at your table, how your friend didn't want him touching you – I mean how do you think it's okay to keep pining for some asshole like that?"

Scarlett placed a closed hand over her mouth, looking down at the table as Dean sighed, shaking his head a little.

"I'm sorry if that was abrasive; I understand where you're coming from, but-"

"Do you, though?" she asked, looking up. He would answer, but she continued and he didn't protest. "Do you really get what it's like to find somebody, that person who makes you all excited and you don't get why? You talk for a while and you realize they're perfect for you, and you spend…oh, I don't know, a year together and that's when you realize that this relationship is exactly what you needed. Then they start getting angry at every little thing you do, and they get bored around you. They suck the life out of you with insults and that little blame game until they say, 'Eh, I don't have any use for you anymore.'" She started choking up, tears filling her eyes. "Then when they leave, they don't leave you feeling like a person. You just end up feeling like trash, even though you did everything in your power to prevent it. You did everything you thought was necessary to please them and all you got in return was abuse, and that rendered you useless. _Do you understand that?_" Some tears fell down her cheeks as she looked away, desperately holding back any other suppressed emotion.

He didn't know what to do; he wanted to tell her to just forget that guy and then leave so he wouldn't have to deal with some blubbering female. But there was also this feeling that became overwhelming that made him want to grab her and hold her in his arms and just tell her she was worth something. Maybe not to that moron, but…_to him_.

"…If it helps, yeah, I understand that," he finally said. She didn't look at him; instead she shut her eyes, turning her head away. "I was in a relationship I put a lot of effort into, but it turned out the girl didn't even like me. She knew with my job I had a decent amount of money and…well, she took it. She took my money, took some guy and ran the hell out of this city before I could find her. So since then, I don't…deal with women, I guess." Scarlett laughed at that last remark, which confused him. "What?"

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her cheeks and shaking her head. "I believe your story; I just…I don't understand why it makes sense for girls to have to move on to other guys, but when guys get hurt they just don't mess with other girls until they find that magical person they instantly connect with."

"Well hey, I didn't come here expecting to tell you _my_ relationship issues, much like you didn't have to tell me yours," he replied, sitting back in his chair. "I just felt like you needed some relatable support, or whatever." She giggled, and that stunning smile lifted a massive weight off his shoulders.

"I've seen it before," he piped up again, catching her attention. "I've seen guys just destroy their girlfriends and then try to be some big tough guy about it. I've seen girls try to move on from it but they can't. Beautiful women too, like yourself: can't even move on from some bullshit like that. It's not worth any pain. You don't deserve that guy and…honestly, without trying to be some creepy dude: I'm sorry you had to go through that." He swallowed heavy, still looking at her with the calmest his eyes have been in a while. He saw the surprise in her green eyes, but there was a hint of excitement and gratitude that she wasn't going to express immediately.

"It's really interesting how you scared the hell out of me, but now you're calling me beautiful," Scarlett said, breaking some silence. She only made it (potentially more) awkward however, when he furrowed his brow at her. She sat up, looking at him with some surprise as he started shaking his head. "You just did! Don't try to deny it now…"

"Yeah but," he started, holding his hand up. "That wasn't the point of what I just said."

"Well I know _that_; I was just mentioning something I noticed is all."

"See that's the thing with you women: you latch onto something you like to hear and just hold onto it for dear life when that wasn't even the focus of the speech. I seriously did not say all that just to get across that you're attractive." She chuckled to herself, still keeping her eyes on him as he sat up and leaned forward, heavily fidgeting. "You just don't…you don't deserve…for Christ's sake…" He trailed off, dropping his hand on the table and looking away. She smiled, patting his hand three times which got his heart racing.

"It's okay," she assured him, taking her hand back. "I won't tell anybody."

He shrugged, still looking away. "I don't care who you tell; I was just honest. You're the one getting all chummy about it…" He slowly looked back at her, catching her shock combined with wanting desperately to laugh again. It set his heart on fire seeing how adorable she looked when she was offended, but again, he kept a straight face.

"Sounds like my cue to leave then," she said with a bit of sass, grabbing her handbag. He mocked her sass with a weak head bob, not bothering to move as she got up from the table.

"…Are you available tomorrow at, say, 7 PM?"

She looked up at him, placing her bag strap over her shoulder. "Why?"

"I wanna show you something," he said casually, watching his fingers tap on the table. "Go to the pier at 7; I'll meet you there." He raised his eyes up to her as she stood there, confused as ever. "Or you could just not go."

"I feel like this was in a mafia movie where the person ended up thrown into the bay to 'sleep with the fishes' and I don't like it." She crossed her arms over her chest as he chuckled to himself, looking down again. "What do you wanna show me that has to be at a pier at night?"

"If I told you, that'd just ruin the surprise," he replied, acting like the answer was too obvious. "Listen if you're still too scared to-"

"Do you just get off on knowing that people are afraid of you? Is that why you keep asking and looking at me in the weirdest ways?"

It went deafly silent between them, regardless of the jukebox playing music. She waited for his answer, slightly wide-eyed and placing her tongue along the back of her top row of teeth. He placed his arms on the table, sitting forward before turning his head up to her and studying the impatient expression on her face. He watched as she closed her mouth, resting her eyes to their regular size, and raising her chin up slightly. He studied her, his eyes narrowing as he ran his tongue along the bottom of his mouth. He had her just where he wanted her mentally and emotionally; in any other circumstance he would easily manipulate her by saying something stupid that would piss her off but have her running into his arms. But she was different; she tried every time she saw him to prove something to him. Why, he didn't know, but he was so attached to her at that moment in time that whatever he said next he wouldn't even bother to remember. All he knew was that she wouldn't accept anything but honesty.

"Of course I do," he answered. He ended his stare abruptly by cutting away to grab his jacket and stand up, throwing it on and walking up beside her. He leaned closely so his mouth was just a couple of inches from her ear, simultaneously getting intoxicated by her vanilla scent. "So if you wanna keep trying to be a big girl, I'll see you tomorrow night."

Leaving her standing there, he walked out of Erickson's, walking a little quicker when he turned into the alleyway. He stopped, slamming a hand onto the brick wall and exhaling, panting almost as he tried to catch his breath. It was more than a want for her to show up; he _needed_ to see her again.


	5. Chapter 5

"You did WHAT?!"

Scarlett strolled into her apartment around 3:30 in the afternoon. She swung her handbag by her side with a child-like smile, taking a seat on the couch and dropping her bag on the floor. Eva stood directly in front of her, planting her hands on her hips and looking on incredulously at her ever-relaxed (and potentially delusional) best friend.

"…I probably didn't tell you what happened last night, did I?" Scarlett asked with a mix of both reluctance and playfulness. She bit on her left thumb nail as Eva scoffed.

"No, Scarlett, no you didn't." Eva took a seat on the edge of the couch, crossing her arms and legs. "Please enlighten me on what the hell is going on."

Scarlett dropped her hand in her lap, sighing with such a bright smile on her face as she looked into the distance, trying to gather her thoughts. She knew this would be the exact reaction from Eva, hence why not a lick of information from Saturday night, or even earlier today, was given. How else does someone tell their adamant best friend that they moved on to a new guy – a new, _enigmatic_ guy?

"Okay so, last night when I went outside, I was just checking my phone for any texts-"

"From Charlie." Eva shook her head, rolling her eyes. "Lady, what else do I have to say to you…?"

"Nothing," Scarlett interrupted, easily put off by Eva's attitude. "I was checking for texts, I got about 10 from Charlie and it was outrageous…" Eva opened her mouth to say something else, but Scarlett held an index finger right up to her face as she continued. "…And then I bumped into that guy from Erickson's and dropped my phone." She lowered her hand as Eva raised an eyebrow.

"Who, Stark?"

"Yeah. He didn't talk that much: I asked his name, he knew mine, and then he asked me to meet him at Erickson's again today. So that's where I went, and tomorrow-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Eva cut in again, this time waving her hands around, then holding them up in front of her. "Pause for a second: you randomly bumped into this guy, found out his name, then met him at the same bar where he nearly _killed your ex-boyfriend_, and now you're all cutesie, lovey-dovey 'oh my god he asked me out on a date!' with him and you-"

"You're just first-class on the plane ride to Exaggeration City, aren't you?" Scarlett asked, slowly shaking her head. "He didn't nearly kill Charlie; he just broke his jaw. And he didn't ask me out on a date, and I'm not…'lovey-dovey' about it, either."

"Then what the hell is this smiling and sighing all about?"

"I just…" Scarlett shrugged, turning her head to the left and thinking of some kind of passable answer to at least calm Eva's nerves. But truthfully, she didn't even know why she was smiling. The conversation she had an hour ago wasn't exactly the greatest one she's had, but the fact that she was so close to Dean – she _touched_ him, even got him to admit something about his own life he wouldn't otherwise tell based on his personality – was beyond what she expected…and she assumed she just liked it, a lot. "He just assured me that Charlie's a scumbag and I don't need to worry about him anymore." She turned back to Eva.

"And I didn't do a good-enough job of that apparently," Eva nodded, chuckling to herself.

"Not the way he did it." And Scarlett slapped her hand over her mouth immediately. Eva's eyes widened and her mouth dropped open.

"Did you fu-"

"NO!" Scarlett yelled after removing her hand. Eva clutched her chest, taking a breath as Scarlett looked on in astonishment. "Come on, you know I wouldn't do that when I don't even know him…!"

"Jesus, Scarlett," Eva sighed, putting her hand to her forehead. "I mean first you're living your life all depressed, now you're hiding shit from me, and now you're all happy-go-lucky because of some tall, dark stranger from a bar in the most boring part of town…just who the hell are you?"

Scarlett didn't even know as she looked her best friend in her brown eyes. There was an odd combination of fear of the unknown…and excitement, happiness about said unknown. Eva knew that look all too well though; it's the same one Scarlett gets when she meets someone new who doesn't give her all the answers right away. She wants to solve the puzzle by any means necessary – and in this case, by meeting a complete stranger on his own terms.

"I hope to find out eventually," Scarlett answered, biting on her thumb nail again as Eva gave her a skeptical look. "…He asked me to meet him again. Tomorrow." Eva threw her hands up and dropped them in her lap, falling against the couch.

"Well since you didn't need anybody to go with you today, I'm sure you'll be fine tomorrow," she remarked, getting off the couch and sighing.

"I didn't ask or need anybody to hold my hand when I'm going places, Eva," Scarlett snapped back, dropping her hand in her lap. "You know I get what you've been doing and I appreciate it, but this is…different."

"It's not different," Eva replied, shaking her head with a smirk at the delusion she kept hearing. "It's some white trash guy who's probably an asshole but you think it's charming and then you work your way into his arms and when he squeezes you, he squeezes the life out of you _once again_. You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?" Scarlett stood up, leaving her hands at her sides. "That you like to run through men like it's nobody's business and when my relationships suck suddenly you're the expert? You think I don't see what I've been through just about my _entire life_? I made stupid mistakes; you don't have to keep bringing it up and trying to baby me out of other situations. If you just trust me _one time_, I'll show you that he's not awful, he's not 'white trash,' and he's certainly not gonna hurt me."

Eva stared at Scarlett for what seemed like forever, mouth somewhat open while she tried to process everything she just heard. Scarlett, meanwhile, kept her mouth shut for once, staring right back at Eva and just waiting for one comment to set her off. She was tired of this aggression from somebody who was just supposed to support her, not boss her around and drag her into other activities she didn't want to take part of.

"For your sake, I pray to God you don't get hurt again."

And she left Scarlett with conflicted emotions.


	6. Chapter 6

She arrived at 6:58, running in boots and jeans with a white tank top and black blazer to the nearest street lamp, right before the long walkway to the fishing dock. He didn't specify where at the pier, especially because it's such a tourist-y, busy area what with restaurants and little shopping boutiques on the street side of the bay, so she figured waiting under a lamp post would be decent enough. It wasn't terribly dark, and she was just positive he'd remember her face. …As positive as she could be.

A heavy breeze swept through the pier as Scarlett leaned against the wooden barricade, facing the little hangout center. As part of the cliché, she saw a couple walking by holding hands, talking with each other and smiling – that being a symbol of what she wants in a relationship for once. But Scarlett wasn't thinking about that. She wondered if that girl was being honest with herself with this guy, and if that guy was being honest with her. She wondered if they ever had fights, or if they were just genuinely pleased with their existences in each other's lives. She wondered if he ever hit her and she was crawling back to him to make things work out again. Another heavy breeze blew Scarlett's long blonde hair in front of her face, and as she combed it behind her ear, she saw the couple moving further away, still smiling and holding hands. How'd they even find a relationship like that? What made the-

"It's rude to stare."

Scarlett let out a small scream, jumping back and turning to her left simultaneously. There he was, leaning against the barricade as well with his hands in his jeans pockets and vigorously chewing on gum. He turned to her, stopping his chewing to give her a smile before dropping it quickly.

"How are you?" He looked down for just a second before looking back up at a perplexed Scarlett, clutching her handbag with both hands.

"…What?" she asked. He looked to his left with wide eyes, then back to her.

"I asked, 'how are you…'?" he responded.

"…F-fine," she stammered, blinking a little too much. He furrowed his brow at her, making his chewing slower.

"Did I…_scare_ you, or something?"

"Don't start that." She rolled her eyes, finally dropping one hand at her side and turning away, taking a breath. When she turned back, he was standing up straight, rubbing his hands together whilst chuckling to himself. "You really are gonna kill me, aren't you?"

"In front of all these people? Of course," he said sarcastically, turning around and starting to walk down the long walkway. He motioned for her to follow, and after a couple of seconds of reluctance, she quickly rushed up beside him and they walked down the pier slowly.

While walking, she kept turning her attention to him, mostly wanting to see if he was going to say something, but also just to study him. His profile presented his nose as a kind of pointy that she used to laugh at when she was a child; he shaved a bit, but there was still some stubble. She noticed he loved to fidget, but he had a stillness about him as well, an eerie stillness.

"Am I some kind of exhibit to you?" he asked, not bothering to turn to her. Scarlett looked straight ahead, feeling her hands getting clammy after being caught. "You can at least give a critique."

"Why would I do that? I was just…" She turned away as she trailed off, rubbing her lips together.

"You were just what?"

"Look, why am I here?" She turned back to him, this time completely studying him for an answer. He seemed thrown off and his eyes started to widen a bit.

"You're not gonna finish your statement first?" he asked, still not looking at her.

"No," she responded, checking her footing. "Now answer _my_ question."

"I said I was gonna show you something," he answered. "You always this pushy?"

"If I don't know what's about to happen," she said, this time following his lead and looking ahead. "Especially with some strange guy named Dean Ambrose."

"So how do I get in Scarlett Hawthorne's good graces so that she stops calling me by my full name and I'm no longer considered a stranger?"

"Tell me what yo-"

"What I'm gonna show you; I got it."

"I don't know enough about you. I know your name, I know you work, I know you like jackets and jeans, and I know you hang out at Erickson's. I also know you can fight and like to stare at people until their palms sweat. Do you really think I'm gonna be happy-go-lucky to just hang out with you…_at night?_"

He nodded his head, a small smile appearing on his face. "Fair enough." He looked down at his feet, putting his hands in his jean pockets as Scarlett cleared her throat, adjusting her handbag on her shoulder. They kept silent for a while, continuing down the walkway and not looking at each other. The tension was frustrating Scarlett – she made the choice to show up, she made the choice to even bother with this guy, but somehow Eva's criticism was seeping into her mindset. Maybe it was in her best interest to not have come. "Where are you going?"

Before she knew it, Scarlett had walked a few feet further than where he was leaning on his elbow on the barricade, ankles crossed and eyebrows raised. She turned back and walked toward him slowly, crossing her arms over her chest.

"This is a dark but lovely part of the pier," she mocked, stopping just a couple of feet in front of him. He chuckled, looking out at the dark waters they stood over as she sighed.

"I come here a lot," he said, turning back to her. "I stand here at night and just stare at all this darkness. I look back at the shops and restaurants, then back at this darkness – it's a weird contrast." Scarlett did as he described – looked out at the water, then back at the shops – but she was just as lost as ever. "Last time I brought a girl here I told her the exact same shit and she kept asking me how this was romantic, or shocking, or whatever…"

"Not gonna lie: I'm asking myself the same thing right now."

"It's not meant to be any of that. I invited you to talk yesterday; you showed up. I invited you at the most random time of the evening to a random part of town night – a stranger to you, you keep saying – yet here you are. You literally stood in the light over there…but chose to walk into darkness here. With me, that stranger. Now I could stand here and explain to you why I invited you here, but I'm more intrigued by the fact that you _chose_ to be here, and you didn't question walking with me."

Scarlett rubs her lips together slowly, staring at Dean but thinking intensely over what he just said. He stared right back at her, pouting his lips while waiting for some kind of response. Eventually she blinked, but as her heart was racing she still didn't have anything to say. He looked down, flattening his lips and sniffing before returning his gaze to her.

"I must be one fascinating creature for you to keep staring at me all night…"

"I don't know why I'm here," she finally replied. "But you…_intrigue_ me." Dean frowned in interest at the answer, nodding his head slowly and looking away. "Maybe it's because you're some new guy who's actually taking interest in me, or because I _think_ you're taking interest in me…"

"Well if I wasn't interested in you in some way I wouldn't have asked you to meet me anywhere," he piped in.

"I've been told a million times not to bother with you, especially considering the fact that I just met you four days ago. I mean I have no idea if you're potentially abusive like Charlie, or anyone els-"

"Stop right there." He straightened up, and walked up to her to where his 6'4" frame hovered a few inches over her 5'8" size. He looked down into her eyes, eyes reading the fear he supposedly enjoyed, while her chest moved heavily with her sped-up heart. "I am _nothing_ like that asshole. I may look like trash to you and your little friends, but I wouldn't _dream_ of lowering myself to abuse someone just because I can and feel like it. You understand that?" She nodded quickly, gulping as he clenched his jaw, keeping his eyes intently on her.

"…I'm sorry…"

"I don't know who's in your ear, but do yourself a favor and get them out if you ever wanna have a life again. I'm not some clean-cut guy but the last thing I would do is hurt you." He turned back around, resting his forearms on the barricade as she exhaled loudly, relieved he stepped away from her but also feeling some kind of urge to pull him back to her. As she looked at the back of his head, her intimidated disposition transformed into disappointment; with how close he was to her, she wanted to just pull him to her and kiss him until they both lost awareness of where they were. He was showing a kind of vulnerability that made her intensely attracted to him at that moment, and she didn't know what to do.

"…So what would you do instead?" She was hoping that question would lead him back to her so she could act on her desire. Instead, he rolled his head back, closing his eyes and letting a smile creep over his face. That same smile gave her some hope his response would be worthwhile, and as he dropped his head and turned back around to her, she let her bag strap slump off her shoulder.

He walked slowly back over to her, putting his hands in his jeans pockets before stopping where the tips of his shoes were just an inch in front of her own. He lowered his face so close to hers that their noses nearly touched, a glimmer in his blue eyes. This time, she stood anxious out of excitement, her eyes smiling back up at his before he opened his mouth.

"If you meet me at that steakhouse again tomorrow night, I'll tell you everything you wanna hear," he answered in a low voice smooth as silk despite that distinct nasal touch. It entranced Scarlett so much that she didn't even process what he said until he turned and walked away from her, heading back down the walkway.

"Why do I have to keep meeting you places?" She yelled after him once she regained sense of her whereabouts. He turned around and proceeded walking backwards, shrugging at her.

"You don't," he replied. "That was the whole point of this. _You_ decide if you wanna see me again, and I'll be here. I'll be in an alleyway, I'll be at a bar – I'll be anywhere, but _you'll_ find me. I don't look for you."

"…So you're not gonna let me ask _you_ to meet _me_ somewhere." She pushed her bag strap back over her shoulder.

"No." He turned back around and continued on, leaving her with a small smile on her face as she watched him go. Somehow, some way, he just confirmed her attraction to him, and it was the most work she's had to do with her feelings about a guy in a long time.

She _loved_ it.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** I'm very sorry for the wait for this chapter - I know Nikki and Amber were IMPATIENT AS ALL HELL :P so if you were as well, I apologize and hope this 3000+-word chapter satiates. Good god I love Dean Ambrose ok.

* * *

_The next night…_

He splashed cold water on his face then buried it in his hands. She may not have gotten the point of last night, he thought. What if she didn't and she didn't show up because of it? His intention wasn't to subtly force her to meet him; everything he said last night was the truth. It was her choice and he was enabling her decision by simply setting the stage.

But maybe he _was_ trying to manipulate her. He's lived in a world where coming across as the big tough guy with a formidable stare was how he got what he wanted. He didn't have to dress in a suit or make himself appear more than what he was, and he didn't have to put on an act. He just raised himself to be independent, thus he didn't need to pretend. His rough exterior was just him. Women came and went because they were attracted to his tall, dark and mysterious demeanor, and all he had to do was twist words and stare at them coldly to get them weak in the knees. He was used to that; he loved that he could do that. But Scarlett didn't fall for it. In fact, her continuously seeing him and making their conversations light-hearted was proof that she was trying to break his exterior and unravel him. She wanted to see who the "real" Dean Ambrose was, as if he wasn't already presenting it. In short, she wanted more from him, and he didn't know what to do with that. None of the women he hooked up with wanted more out of him (minus that one ex-girlfriend), especially nothing emotional.

Dean dropped his hands from his face and stared into his own eyes in the mirror, not a hint of emotion other than exhaustion showing. He had an extremely long day, and going home was definitely the best option, but as soon as he remembered Scarlett's face from the night before – how her eyes glimmered under the lights of the pier, her long, blonde hair flowing in waves behind her – he felt a burst of energy. He smiled, looking down and nodding his head.

"Buy her dinner," he muttered, grabbing his jacket and throwing it on. "Just buy her dinner. It's casual, not a date." He picked up his black duffel bag and walked out of the bathroom.

With his bag strapped across his chest, he walked from work across the street, down the block to the next, and into the alleyway he met her in before. The street, although being 7 PM on a Tuesday, was oddly quiet, but Dean didn't mind it. He liked the quiet; it made his anxious mind relax. But as he walked through the alleyway, extra footsteps behind him, ones faster than his own, caused him to come to a complete stop. He turned around calmly to see a large man, much taller than Dean, standing with his hands clasped. Dean rolled his eyes, exhaling some relief as he looked at him.

"Yes, Chris?" He dropped his shoulders as the near 7-foot Chris tilted his head a little.

"You in a hurry or something?" he asked. Dean nodded his head, bored of the conversation already and it barely started. "You realize though, that you owe me from a couple weeks ago…"

"I owe you what?"

"Oh, I don't know…but I'd say it was 500 bucks-worth of payback."

* * *

Scarlett had parked towards the end of the block where the restaurant sat, and after debating whether to go inside whatsoever, she mustered up the courage and go out of her car. The evening was a bit windy, but it didn't prevent her from wearing a black dress (with, and not on purpose, a leather jacket). She kept her hair down as she walked down the sidewalk in her tall pumps, swinging her arms from side to side. She stopped in front of the restaurant, thinking to herself if she should meet him inside or stay outside – she spent time looking behind her down the street, then turning back to the restaurant in case he was already inside. Well maybe he meant literally the alleyway where they were before, she thought. And because of that thought, she made her way over to the side of the building.

Her walking slowed when she heard someone yelling, then some kind of shuffling. When she turned the corner, there was Dean with some guy, both in the middle of some heated conversation.

"You either need to give me my money now, or I'll make sure you-"

"Dean?"

He heard her voice and instantly cringed, not bothering to turn back to her. Chris looked over Dean's shoulder to that curious blonde, beginning to laugh to himself.

"What, you were in a hurry to spend my money on your little girlfriend or something?" He put his hands on his hips, incredulous at his own theory. Dean, meanwhile, clenched his jaw, staring hard at Chris.

"She's got nothing to do with this, so I suggest you pay attention to _me_ – and kindly tell me just why the hell I owe you anything while you're at it. I don't seem to remember asking you for a dime, let alone $500."

"Hmph" was Chris' reply as he snarled, starting to walk past Dean and get out of the alley. Dean followed him with his eyes, taking off his jacket while Chris didn't even pay any attention. Instead he stopped right beside Scarlett, who crossed her arms and looked away, trying her best to ignore his hovering presence. "Now that I'm a little closer, you wouldn't even be worth $20, let alone $500…" He chuckled at his own joke as Scarlett scoffed, rolling her eyes. Once she focused straight ahead, she saw Dean storming out of the alley, ready to knock Chris' lights out. Trying desperately to avoid any other kind of altercation, she ran up to Dean and pushed him back, keeping her hands on his chest as Chris stood back, mocking him.

"Don't," she said in a low voice, turning back to Chris for just a moment, then back at Dean. She looked up at him, pleading through her wide eyes for him not to do anything. He was so ready to just pummel Chris, but when he looked down at her face, he felt that anger slowly subside. "Just leave it alone." She kept her eyes on him, which captivated him so much that when he turned his attention fully to her for just that moment, he missed Chris' massive fist smashing against his left temple.

Scarlett stumbled back, in shock as Chris kicked Dean in the ribs, trying to get him to stand up. Dean was struggling to his feet, clutching at his face until Chris laid a punch right in Dean's midsection, followed by another punch before holding him steady, then laying another punch with his left hand across Dean's face.

As he stumbled back against the brick wall, mouth bloody and left eye already turning pink and slightly swollen, Scarlett simply stood out of the way and watched in panic. She had no phone, and she had no interest in trying to stop Chris herself. She felt helpless as Chris snatched Dean by the throat, pushing him against the wall to where he was two inches off the ground. As he struggled for air, the giant leaned close to his face, gritting his teeth.

"I'll take this as you paying me back," he said through those teeth, applying pressure. But as he took that moment to gloat, Dean stabbed his thumb into his eye, releasing his hand from his throat and dropping him back on the ground. Quickly, Dean snatched Chris' wrist, twisted it, then used the same arm to pull him close before slamming his palm against his nose, sending Chris back-first to the ground. Dean took that moment to catch his breath, sitting against the wall…but what worried Scarlett more than his physical appearance at this point…was his laughing. He curled over a little, holding an arm to his ribs…_while laughing_. And as Chris started to stir, raising his head up, Dean kicked him right in the face to knock him out entirely – much to Scarlett's disgust. She watched him fall back against the brick wall, then slump down to the ground still catching his breath. His laughing ceased, and every bit of pain was setting in all at once.

Scarlett walked quickly over to him, squatting down beside him and checking his face. He refused her, weakly pushing her away while turning his face away and grimacing.

"Stop," she pleaded, petting back some of his hair as he rested his head against the wall. "Let me help you…"

"No, don't," he protested faintly, shutting his eyes and cringing at the collective agony from trying to breathe and fight a headache with a busted lip.

She ran the back of her fingers along the side of his face, down to his jawline before looking at the KO'd Chris, then the empty street. She knew this next idea would be far-reaching, but she'd never live it down if she didn't act on it. "I'll take you back to my place and I'll get you bandaged up."

"Seriously, no," he groaned, turning his face to her. "You don't need to do that…"

"Yes I do," she responded just as quickly as he spoke. He didn't continue to argue with her as she wrapped his arm over the back of her neck, slowly standing up as he did the same. He stayed curled up as she walked him gingerly to her car, looking straight ahead – but he glanced at her, trying to find some kind of hint as to why she was doing all of this before he fell dizzy.

* * *

The next thing Dean knew, he was being dragged into an apartment living room that was dowsed in white with spots of random colors – definitely not his living room. He felt so feeble he didn't bother to ask aloud where he was and allowed himself to be taken into a bedroom with a white comforter. Based on his extreme fatigue, the sight of a bed gave him an overwhelming feeling of peace despite being in near-agony.

He fell onto the bed back-first, immediately feeling like he fell on a cloud…one that happened to smell like vanilla. It didn't matter though; he turned on to his right side and shut his eyes, inhaling deeply and exhaling with a little smile on his face as his body completely submitted to the bed's all-around comfort. Something brushed over his hair on the bruised side of his face though, and something else kind of cold but fuzzy pressed against his temple, pulling him immediately out of his dream-like scape.

"Don't move," he heard a familiar soft voice warn.

Scarlett rested a knee beside him on the bed, holding a cloth wrapped around some ice by his eye. She looked over his face again, trying to decipher if he needed ice more for his busted lip or his eye, while he simply looked at her.

"You always took care of your ex-boyfriends like this when you first met 'em?" he asked, turning his head to her. She rolled her eyes, still holding the wrap to his eye.

"None of my ex-boyfriends liked to fight back," she replied with a small smirk. He let out a chuckle but coughed soon after, putting a hand on his abdomen. "Who was that guy anyways?"

"Chris," he grimaced, trying to push himself even further on the bed. She removed the cloth and watched him move, sitting up gingerly and pushing himself on his elbows – all while continuing to talk. "6'8", 250-plus pounds of pure hell that I work with." He reached the middle of the bed and laid on his back again, catching his breath. "A couple times I asked him for help financially and paid him right back; I have no idea what the hell he was talking about tonight with me owing him something else."

"Maybe he heard you were meeting me at the restaurant and wanted you to pay for a 500-dollar meal for him," she joked, leaning beside him on her right elbow. As he tried to laugh, she smiled before handing him the wrap. He took it without hesitation and placed it on his eye, turning to her.

"Sorry this evening was ruined," he sighed. She looked at his face, seemingly not having heard what he said but really she didn't want to say anything. She undoubtedly felt bad about everything that happened – maybe if she hadn't showed up and gotten in the way that scene wouldn't have escalated as it did – but it was probably a sign as well. All this trouble must've meant something; there wasn't a doubt in her mind. "I was gonna finally let you choose something besides showing up."

"I ended up choosing the location though, as you can see." She smiled at him which made him turn away, keeping the ice on his eye. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't left for dead in some alley."

"This wasn't my first fight, you know," he started but she interrupted with an audible sigh. "Hey, maybe you've heard that before, but it's the truth. I've been fighting people my whole life; this wasn't even close to what I've been through."

"I got it-"

"No, you don't, Scarlett," he cut her off. "My lip is throbbing with a little swollen bump on the side, the side of my face hurts like hell but nothing's fractured…compared to when I've gotten dislocations, gashes, things nearly cut off, left to starve in the cold…" He turned back to her, moving the wrap from his eye as she met his eyes. "This is nothing, I promise you."

She looked down at her hands as he turned his head parallel, putting the wrap back on the side of his eye. "Yeah I…saw that look on your face while you were beating that guy up. How you were laughing at him, of all things."

"He, much like yourself, thought that was the worst he could do to me, regardless of working beside me for years." He managed to let out one strong scoff before coughing. "I can't even begin to tell you how many poor assholes thought that was smart thinking before they got their heads put on sticks."

At that moment, Scarlett looked up at him with the widest eyes, filled with so much fear she didn't care if he ridiculed her for it. The realization that she was dealing with a deranged bare-knuckler was setting in rather quickly, and not listening to Eva entirely was probably her biggest mistake to date. She didn't know what to do with him at this point as she watched him take deep breaths, relaxing comfortably on her bed. There was something so eerie about the casualness of what he just said coinciding with his sweet, almost child-like appearance at that moment in time. It killed her to think about potentially kicking him out – but she also feared for her life even though she wasn't doing anything to pose a threat. The tension was awful and she had no way to kill it.

"I think I should go," he said, breaking her thought process suddenly. She watched as he struggled to even sit up, barely getting to an upright position and instead having to lean on his side before stopping to catch his breath. The sight worried her, and in that moment she didn't bother to think twice.

"Why don't you stay here the night?" The question baffled her as much as it did him, as he dropped his left hand in his lap and turned to her, confused as ever. She got off the bed, playing with her fingers and biting on her lower lip before approaching him, awkwardly but gently pushing him by the chest back onto the bed, this time with his head against one of her pillows. "I don't think it's good you try to go back home by yourself; you should just sleep here and then in the morning see how you feel."

He stared at her with furrowed brows, still trying to catch his breath as she patted his shoulder. "…Are you sure?"

"No, I'm really, not." As she combed back a heap of her blonde hair, he smiled, studying the nervousness on her face. "I just thought it'd be a nice gesture, but I should've asked if it's okay with you."

"If a hot chick asks me to stay the night in her bed, do you honestly think I'm gonna say no?" He looked at her skeptically, keeping that smile on his face. As she dropped her hand at her side and started shaking her head in a panic, he raised a hand up at her. "Relax; I'm not gonna try anything."

She sighed, turning around while rubbing her hands together. She heard him pushing some laughter out, coughing in between before clearing his throat. She kicked off her shoes into the closet, taking her coat off soon after – all while knowing he was watching her. She threw her jacket into the closet as well, stopping and putting her head down.

"Can I also apologize because I ruined the opportunity to see that dress under better circumstances?"

She raised her head, opening her mouth to say something, but nothing came out. She slowly turned around to him, looking everywhere but at his face until she finally gathered her words. "…Would it bother you if I slept in my own bed?"

"Nope," he replied, a glimmer in his eyes under the golden light from the lamp beside the bed. "But would it bother _you_?"

He watched as she walked around to the vacant side of the bed, laying down and resting her head on another white pillow. Meeting his blue eyes as he turned his body towards her, she curled up a little, trying to lower her anxiety.

"I can't be afraid of you forever, Dean Ambrose."


	8. Chapter 8

_Scarlett,_

_Didn't wanna wake you but I had to go. Borrowed some paper from your notepad on your desk; hope you don't mind. Thanks for the ice and the bed – oh and the wake-up horror from that smeared makeup._

_No idea if your phone's fixed but if you wanna talk, here's my cell: 555-0427_

_And don't worry about me; I'm fine._

_- D_

"Oh, man," Windham laughed, taking a seat on Dean's couch.

It was evening time – a week in fact after that altercation with Chris and spending the night at Scarlett's. Dean was more than healed from his injuries, and admittedly he waited those seven days for some kind of call…but nothing.

"Yeah, dude," he replied as Windham shook his head. Dean sat down on the recliner near the couch, putting his beer bottle on the coffee table and sitting right back in his seat. "I don't even know what happened; the whole thing was just all sudden and shit, and now she hasn't called."

"Maybe she's mad you didn't make a move WHILE YOU WERE IN HER BED," Windham scoffed as Dean rolled his eyes. "Jesus man, how obvious she gotta make it to you?"

"But I don't know if I want…" He trailed off, turning away.

"You don't want what? You ain't gon sit there and tell me you don't want her. I will _not_ accept that."

Dean shook his head as he bit on his thumb nail, keeping his attention away from his longtime friend. Windham stared him down, waiting for an answer. When Dean finally turned his head slowly back to him, he braced himself for the comment. "I don't know." And Dean dropped his hand on the chair.

In their three years of knowing each other, Windham's never seen Dean like this: indecisive, worried, upset at feeling these emotions in the first place. He's always been sure of everything he did: if he wanted something, he'd take it. If he wanted to say something, it'd be said as soon as it came to mind. He's never met a situation he couldn't weasel his way out of – but after last week it's as though she's trapped him. Cast him under a spell, completely altered his existence, however it needs to be put. He's drastically different from just over a week ago, and it made no sense why he wasn't admitting to it.

"It's not worth it…" Dean started to say, but he immediately regretted it. He heard Windham's hands angrily slap the cushion of the couch, yet still kept his attention on the carpeted floor. "What I mean is that I can't afford to…be with someone like her."

"What'd ya mean 'someone like her'?" Windham asked with plenty of frustration in his voice. "You only spent about four days with 'er and you know 'er so well already?"

"Well, yeah," Dean responded, finally looking back up at Windham. He put his hands in his lap, starting to squirm a little in his seat while his eyes lit up. "Those days showed me exactly what I thought: that she's not some doormat or pushover. She's perfect." Windham raised his eyebrows at Dean, which raised his excitement as he smiled. "I'm telling you, you should see the way her eyes light up when I say something stupid, or when I challenge her. And she likes to stand at a certain angle so that her hair blows just a little in front of her face but you can still see every feature – and that smile, man… That smile could light up Times Square in a blackout. And she's got this attitude about her…she's stubborn, she likes to fight and she hates to lose. She hates when I tell her she's scared of me-"

"Who doesn't hate that?"

"-And she likes to stick her chin out and make it look like she's some tough bitch when her knees are shaking. And sometimes sh-"

"Alright, alright, enough before I throw up all over your coffee table…" Windham looked away, shaking his head as Dean sat back in his seat, hands in his lap and that smile on his face. "What I don't get is your problem though. You gimme all these positive things about her yet you're keepin' it in your mind that you can't be with her."

"Well hypothetically speaking, what _if_ I end up with her? What am I supposed to do?"

"What kinda question is that?"

"She doesn't know what kind of person I am besides what she sees. She doesn't know how I live, about my job, she doesn't know about my life other than the small details I gave her – yet I'm supposed to just drop everything and be with her all of a sudden…?"

"What's wrong with you, man?"

Windham had turned back to Dean at this point and looked so exhausted of the topic that Dean's shoulders dropped and he felt the exhaustion passing over to him. His smile dropped as he stared down his most trusted friend, who continued on.

"You never gave a shit before; you always just did what first came to mind, and now with this chick you can't even think straight. You don't know what you want, and you worry…_about the future_. Why? Is she someone of major importance to the point where if you screw up you'll get executed or some shit? That if someone found out you tryin' things with her that you'll get thrown in jail?"

"Windham, I just don't deserve her. Okay? Look at me, try to remember her, and tell me that somehow I should be with her. Convince me, because other than the fact that she's flawless I don't see it. And I don't think it's worth pursuing anymore."

"Is it just because she ain't called you in a week? You expect this stranger to wanna immediately call you and bother _you_, a fellow stranger she doesn't understand?" Dean nodded, thinking it was just as obvious as the mismatch he was explaining to Windham. "Well you just gotta get over that and let 'er come to you when she's ready. No more games, no more meetings that lead to nothin', no more spendin' the night in her bed unless it's gonna lead to something beyond sleepin' – when she's ready then you'll be ready."

Dean picked up his beer bottle and sat back in his seat, looking towards the floor while taking a sip. Maybe Windham was right; maybe he needed to stop being pushy and giving her ideas and just let her come to him. It could've worked in the beginning to bait her in, but she was better than that. She knew what she was doing, yet Dean didn't recognize that. He didn't care; he just thought he was in control. But clearly, at this point, Scarlett had taken control, and it didn't settle with Dean. Nobody, not even a woman, should take control of him _ever_. So why he was allowing Scarlett to do it was something he had no answer to. And he hated it, especially because his attraction to her made it so complicated for him. It was all a mess he didn't expect just because he bashed some guy's jaw in two weeks ago.

Mere moments after Windham was finished speaking, as Dean went for a second sip of beer, his cell phone rang. He almost choked on his drink as he turned to Windham, panicking and sitting in place. Windham casually returned his look, calm as ever and holding his hand out and gesturing to the phone.

"Answer it, fool."

Dean put down his bottle and grabbed his phone, checking the caller ID. The number was undoubtedly from the same city, giving him more hope that it'd be her. He pressed the green 'answer' button and placed the phone to his ear, trying to gather himself.

"...Hello?"

"Dean?" The familiar, sweet voice made his heart skip a beat.

"Sca-" He cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his seat and changing his expression to nonchalance. "Yeah; is this Scarlett or whatever?"

"Yeah it's me, cool guy," she replied with a giggle. He bit on his finger as she continued. "I got my phone fixed, so I just wanted to call to give you my number…you know, in case you wanted it or something. You're the meeting planner so I figured you should contact me first, right?"

Her voice sounded so smooth and calming, reminding him of that Tuesday night when he was half-conscious, inhaling all of that vanilla scent and listening to her voice coax him into a kind of good sleep he hadn't had in ages. He wanted to see her again the past seven days, no doubt, but hearing her voice again made him physically ache to be near her.

"Dean, are you still there?"

"Yeah, sorry," he responded quickly, shaking his head and putting his hand down. "Um, yeah, give me your number and shit."

"I'm sorry for not calling sooner, by the way," she added. "…I didn't know what to say or if I should call you, honestly. I don't know what to do with anything, you know?" Her nervous laugh was a bit disheartening.

"And…maybe…that's my fault…"

"What are you talking about?"

Windham got up from his seat and walked to the kitchen, chuckling to himself as Dean watched him. It was a good time for some guidance, but watching his friend walk away was a sign that he just set himself up for failure.

"…I feel like I was leading you on for a while and that's…why you…didn't…call…" he managed to get out, rubbing the back of his neck.

"This is probably a conversation we should be having in person, don't you think?"

"Maybe." She sighed over the line, pressuring him into immediately continuing. "I just thought that maybe you got fed up with me suggesting places and you showing up at your own will, like some game. I don't wanna play games anymore; we're past that."

"…So, where are we at now?"

"You tell me."

"I can't tell you; you're the one who decided we're past the game stage, whatever that happens to be," she laughed as he looked away, shaking his head in disbelief of where the conversation wasn't going. "But I'm gonna guess we're at a better stage than before – one where I'm actually _not_ intimidated by you anymore." That quickly brought a smirk to his face.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, really, hence this phone call."

"Phone calls are easy; you don't have me standing so close to you and looking right at you."

"But that wouldn't bother me either if we were face-to-face."

"And why is that…?"

"Because I like it."

He said absolutely nothing, nor did her, but he didn't notice. His heart raced as he held the phone to his ear, swallowing hard while looking straight ahead. He absolutely loathed what she was trying to do – he had an inkling and he didn't want to see it.

"…So I have to go," she said suddenly, waking him from his trance. She cleared her throat and he started rubbing the palm of his free hand against his thigh.

"Um…"

"I wanna see you again, Dean." He still stumbled for words, but she continued. "I wanna talk to you in person, _see_ you…when can I?"

"Scarlett, I…"

"I know it's been a week and I know maybe it's weird because you still don't know me. …But I feel like I know you. And maybe I really don't, which is why I wanna see you again to find out more."

"I wanna see you too." He heard her giggle with relief, but he didn't share her sentiment. He didn't know where they'd go from there.

"Do you wanna meet me at the pier again?" she asked. "Just where the shops are, not where we were."

"Give me the time and I'll be there," he replied, trying his damndest to sound collected but inside he was falling apart.

"How about tomorrow…let's say, 3?"

"Don't be late."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." He smiled, sitting back in his chair again and feeling much more relaxed. She sounded just as relaxed. "See ya later, Dean Ambrose."

"Bye, Scarlett Hawthorne."

He hung up and put his phone on the coffee table before slumping back into his chair, exhaling loudly. Windham walked back over with his own bottle of beer, finishing his swig before smiling at Dean.

"See that wasn't so bad, was it?" He sat back on the couch as Dean placed a hand over his stomach, still catching his breath and shaking his head.

"Holy fuck."

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hope you gusta'd :) I wrote a completely different scene in Scarlett's POV but I realized it wasn't going anywhere, so I changed to Dean, then I realized my original scene with him wasn't going anywhere, so this is the end result. I love awkward Dean; he's such a qt 3.14.


	9. Chapter 9

"Why don't you get one of her stupid friends to spy on her or something?"

"They all hate me; why would I ask them for any help?"

"Because it beats the hell outta trying to do some extra work just to see if she's still seeing De-"

"_Still_ seeing him?"

Chris stood at the doorway of the two-story beach house, hands tucked in his jeans pockets as he dropped his head. Stepping out in front of him onto the patio was Charlie, dressed in a white t-shirt, board shorts and sandals. He held his hands out in front of him as if he were carrying something, his body tightening up while he struggled for words at the thought of "still."

"Yeah, man, she's been seeing him probably since that night he almost broke your face," Chris replied, turning his body to Charlie. The prep dropped his arms at his sides, sighing heavily and shaking his head. "All I know about all this is that he kept her out of the way when I was going in for the kill. No dude who doesn't give a shit about some woman would do that…"

"Yeah no shit, Sherlock," Charlie snapped, putting his hands on his hips and biting his lip, looking away. "This wasn't supposed to be this difficult; I paid you $1, 000 to kill him and now you just drove her apparently even closer to him." He turned back to Chris. "Do you know how fucking annoying it is to pay someone a thousand bucks in cold, hard cash only for them to not earn it?"

"Hey, I did what I could, but that bastard's not exactly some lightweight," Chris retorted. "Besides, if you think it's so easy to kill him, why haven't you done it?"

"Oh gee, I don't know, maybe it's because I'm 5'11", you're 6'8" and you WORK WITH HIM! I am _paying_ you more money than your cheap-ass boss and you're telling _me_, Charles Thomas III, to do something I hired you specifically to do? Do you understand how stupid you're making yourself look right now?!"

Chris snatched him by the throat and shoved him up against a post, standing dangerously close to his face. "You better watch what you're saying and remember just who the hell you're sayin' it to. _He_ might've gotten away, but don't think for a second that I won't snap _your_ neck like a twig right now, boy." He released his grip, letting Charlie gasp for air while he turned his back on him, walking away slowly. "And why do you wanna kill him anyways? I understand roughing him up a bit, which I did – but killing some guy because he looked at your old lady?"

"That's not…just it…" Charlie panted, clutching at his throat. When he gathered up enough air to speak, he relaxed his shoulders and stood up straighter. "He hangs around that bar all the time, him and his fat friend, and they always act like they own the place. Staring me down, telling me to move out of their way; now this asshole wants to tell _me_ to never come back to that dump? I wouldn't step another foot in it even if he _didn't_ tell me that! Fact of the matter is…" He coughed a little before continuing. "…I don't appreciate trash telling me what to do when I'm the one with the money and status in this city. Who the hell is he? What's he gonna contribute around here? Not a damn thing, I'll tell ya."

"But what does that have to do with the girl?" Chris asked, turning back to his fearless leader. When he did, however, Charlie was snarling at him while slowing down his heavy breathing. Instead of responding, he started walking back to the door. "Man, you better tell me what I'm getting myself into…!"

"I still want her, alright?" Charlie stopped at the door, pushing it open, but turning back around to Chris. "That guy amazed her – I saw it in her eyes. She hadn't looked at me like that except when I first met her and gave her a cup of god damn coffee, and here she was elated that I was getting my ass kicked by some brooding scumbag. I know she still wants me, and as long as that idiot's out of the way entirely, I can get her back at any time. She's that desperate."

That last comment brought a smile to his face, and he walked back inside his beach house with a pep in his step. Chris reluctantly followed, shaking his head and feeling much more ready to get himself out of the situation as soon as possible. With Charlie's racing mind however, he wasn't sure that was an option.

* * *

After the phone call, Scarlett squealed and kicked her feet in the air as she lay on the couch. Everything was going in such a perfect direction – if she kept playing her cards right she'd finally have him to herself. Selfish, but she couldn't recall a relationship where this, her attracting the man, happened. Every relationship had her weak at the knees for the guy; to have this kind of control felt rewarding.

The front door opened then shut quickly, a flustered Eva marching straight to the kitchen and throwing her handbag on the floor. She yanked open the refrigerator and snatched out the only bottle of wine sitting inside, pulling off its cork and slamming the bottle onto the counter.

"What happened to you?" Scarlett asked, sitting up on the couch. Eva took out a wine glass and, at the sound of the question, placed it on the counter more gently beside the glass bottle.

"I was fucking fired today," she stated with a mocking tone. "Greatest job ever and I get fired because _someone else_ made a stupid-ass mistake. Joy!" She poured some wine into the glass, trying to relax to take a sip, but as she put the bottle down she groaned, turning to face Scarlett. "Not to mention Olivia and Rachael aren't talking to me because of _your_ problems. So now I have no one to hang out with – except now it's this glass of wine, so if you'll excuse me…"

"Wait, wait," Scarlett interrupted, holding her free hand up. "What are you talking about, they won't talk to you because of my problems?"

"They think I'm being unreasonable because I don't want you dating some scrub-ass dude from a bar, and the fact that I yelled at you about him leaving our apartment last week was stupid."

"Sounds accurate to me."

"Of course it sounds accurate to you; you're the one who doesn't step back and look at the situation in front of you…"

"I _did_ look back at the situation, and I saw a guy who's pursuing _me_ because I put him in that predicament."

"Oh, goodie, Scarlett has a new toy to play with!" Eva picked up her glass and walked slowly from the kitchen to the living room, shaking her head and running her tongue along her bottom row of teeth. "It doesn't matter how you twist things; you're putting yourself in more danger than you should be in over some dude."

"What 'danger' are you talking about, Paranoid Patty?" Scarlett scoffed angrily, glaring at Eva whose expression turned from irritation to guilt as she sat down on the other end of the couch.

"That idiot, Brandon, was telling me about Charlie's stupid plan to…" She couldn't even bring herself to finish the sentence, so she tried a different approach. "That guy got followed into the alleyway by that bigger dude…Chris, right?"

"Yeah, Chris; Dean said that was his co-worker."

"Heh…well that co-worker of his was paid off by Charlie to…attack your Dean." She looked at Scarlett with heavy reluctance, sighing a little. She watched as her best friend furrowed her brow, eyes widening at the thought of the blue polo shirt-wearing jock with the collar popped up for no reason hiring assassins – even more at the thought of him going through so much trouble to do so. "When I woke up Wednesday morning I saw Dean leaving, so I was relieved in a sense that he wasn't dead. But for God's sake, Scarlett, this is exactly what I was telling you about and what I didn't want happening."

"What, you knew that my ex-boyfriend would hire a hit man to take out some guy I just met two weeks ago?"

"No; I knew that this guy would come in a tall, dark and mysterious package wrapped in a bow of trouble. Now Brandon didn't tell me _why_ all this was happening, but just judging by the entire thing it's because Charlie's fucking stupid and doesn't realize that in the process of trying to kill this Dean, he's gonna put you in harm's way. But maybe that's what he wants because he's so jealous and on that Shakespeare-type shit; I don't know."

The text message chime on Scarlett's phone went off, and she checked the number above the text pop-up

**555-3481**  
_Heyy. We havent talked in ages but I wanna talk 2 u. I know u h8 me & w/e but this is imp & I nee in person. Txt bck_

"It's Charlie." She handed the phone to Eva, who read the text in disgust. "What do I say?"

"Tell him to learn how to text in English, first off," Eva responded, handing back the phone and taking a sip of wine. "Maybe he'll indirectly tell you what the hell's going on so that you can at least try to fix it before it gets worse."

"What am I supposed to say: 'Hey I hope you're okay with us never dating again; I don't want you trying to kill anybody, haha'?" She pressed the reply button, staring at the message for a moment as the cursor blinked in its white box.

"I don't know, but it's best to get some answers instead of avoiding him and then finding your man dead in an alleyway or outside Erickson's."

Scarlett rolled her eyes at the last comment while Eva shrugged. But the witty best friend had a point, and Scarlett would rather end whatever was going to happen now instead of later.

_I'm going to the pier 2:30. Maybe meet me there that exact time & we can talk for 10 min only…otherwise forget it_

"Wouldn't hurt to just tell him to meet me where I was already heading to tomorrow, right?" She hit send regardless of Eva's answer.

"Where's that?"

"The pier."

"What's with you and the pier; you can't find anywhere else to go in this metropolis?"

Scarlett received another text, and this time she sighed at the reply before showing it to Eva.

**555-3481**  
_Gr8 I can buy u lunch like old times. C u there_

Eva cringed, turning away. "God, I take it back; don't go."

"That garbage aside, I just hope he'll make it 10 minutes because I'm…busy at 3."

"With…?" Another text came in and Eva chuckled. "Now he's just being obnoxious."

**Dean**  
_Forgot to ask where exactly I meet you_

Scarlett giggled to herself, immediately responding to his text as Eva watched, slowly taking another sip of wine.

_Get to the pier first, then I'll find you _

"I know that wasn't Charlie you were responding to," she said, raising an eyebrow as Scarlett looked up.

"Oh, no, it wasn't," she assured her. "Someone else."

"Alright, well, while you're being your usual social butterfly self, I'm gonna go take a shower." She stood up, turning to walk to her bedroom, but she stopped and looked back at Scarlett. "I just want you to know that I'm…sorry for being really rude about all this stuff. I just don't know what you're doing, and I worry about you. I want you to be okay."

Scarlett looked away, feeling more composed than before about this conversation's direction, which gave her some peace. As she looked back up at Eva, she felt trusted for a change, like she was finally liberated from the past as she always wanted. "I'll be more than okay, Ev."

Yet another text, cueing Eva to smirk and continue to her bedroom, shaking her head. Scarlett looked down at the screen, herself smirking before getting off the couch.

**Dean**  
_Taking all this control…I like it_

* * *

***AUTHOR'S NOTE:** That feel when someone's trying to kill Dean :(( That feel when Scarlett's setting herself up for failure -smh- That feel when updated story. That feel when...idk write a review about another feel lawl.


	10. Chapter 10

Scarlett arrived at the pier at 2:25, walking towards the dining and shopping area with her arms folded over her chest. She bit on the edges of her thumb and index finger nails, studying the walkway and center where people bustled about. When she stopped walking and looked towards a jewelry store, she spotted him, his face nearly pushed on the glass window. She dropped her hand from her mouth and sighed, shaking her head just a little before proceeding toward him. She stopped just short of where he was standing, glancing at the jewelry display before raising her eyebrows skeptically.

"You're early," she smirked. He turned his head just to the side, not facing her entirely.

"So are you."

Dean turned around completely, a small smile curving as his eyes met hers. Hands stuffed in his jean pockets, he took a step closer to hover over her, looking over the clear gloss on her lips, her soft skin, then back up to those glistening eyes he loved to get lost in.

"So I thought you said to meet at 3?" He slowly took one step back, keeping his eyes on her as she shrugged.

"I did," she replied casually. "But I'm meeting someone at 2:30."

"What, is this person supposed to be joining us after you meet with them first?"

"I hope not." She rubbed the back of her neck, giggling at the thought but internally hoping and praying it stays that way.

"Who is it anyways?"

She dropped her hands at her sides, running her tongue along the inside of her lips as she looked back at him. He patiently waited for an answer, trusting her to remain as casual as she had been – but just mentioning _that_ name in front of him was an idea that terrified her.

After what seemed like an extremely long pause, she exhaled with plenty of guilt attached and finally answered: "Charlie." She tried her best to stay calm and collected, watching as that smile on Dean's face shrunk to a frown, his entire body relaxing itself but at the same time tensing up at the sound of his name. She watched his eyes as he looked down at her shoes, then blinked and made contact with her eyes again before turning away, his jaw clenching.

"We're talking for strictly 10 minutes, nothing more."

He turned back to her, a smile returning to his face but one of a mixture of disbelief and amusement. "And what if he decides to go over that?"

"He's not going to; I'm gonna tell him when time's up and when I've had enough."

"You think it's that easy to take care of?" He wanted to wait for an answer, but he was filling up with so much anger and adrenaline that it got the best of him. "You think it's no big deal to go meeting up with some dick knowing full-well he just wants you back to have as another plaything? You think it's good for you to keep crawling back to assholes like this?"

"Why are you getting so upset?" Her eyes widened in shock as she combed her hair behind her ears.

"Because _this is stupid_, Scarlett! For Christ's sake, what's it gonna take for you to realize-"

"Dean! …Dean…" She put her hands up in front of him. "He said he wanted to talk to me about something, and I need to talk to him about something as well. That's _all_ this is, I swear. Once I get my answers, he's gone, and then you and I will have our time together, okay?"

He stayed silent, looking down at the wooden planks under his feet. He tried to digest what she was adamant in believing, but it just didn't make sense to him. He didn't even know if it made sense to her; she just seemed so lost in trying to control everything at once while someone else was coming in to manipulate her again. He greatly resented toying with her before as he saw the desperation in her eyes, the craving to fill some sort of void with Charlie. He couldn't bring himself to say anything.

She recognized that silence and his attention to the ground below as a memo that he didn't want to hear anymore attempts at excusing what she was about to do. Instead of trying to frustrate him further, she looked out at the pier center where Charlie was wandering around, checking every blonde in the vicinity. Scarlett sighed again, slowly turning her attention back to Dean who still had his head down.

"Can you do me a favor though? Please?" She stepped closer, angling her head and leaning towards him to catch his look.

Charlie watched a brunette in a skintight white dress and denim jacket walk by, smirking as she did the same. He nodded, chuckling to himself before getting startled by a tap on his shoulder. He turned around quickly, panting a little when he caught sight of Scarlett's blank expression and her arms crossed.

"Hey!" He held his arms out, smiling broadly while Scarlett just nodded. "Where do you wanna go?"

Scarlett looked behind her, pointing toward an empty bench beside the pier barricade. "Right over there actually."

As they proceeded, walking beside each other with a foot's distance between them, Charlie did his best to create small talk: "So how are things going? How's Eva…and everyone?"

"You don't care about Eva or the rest of my friends…" She rolled her eyes, looking away as he rubbed his lips together, smiling a little to himself.

"I didn't come here to talk about them anyways." He heard Scarlett sigh heavily as they finally reached the bench, he taking a seat first while she hesitated.

She looked out at the bay, her eyes panning across until she reached a part blocked off by the stature of a tall man leaning against the barricade. His head had turned just a little to peer over his shoulder, and she caught his eye just for a moment before taking a seat.

"So what'd you come here to talk about then?" She crossed her legs, keeping her arms folded over her chest but her body turned to Charlie.

"…I came to see where you stand with me." He draped his arm over the back of the bench, inching toward her in his seat. "Now, I know our relationship was awful for the tail-end of it, and I know I should've fixed things between us, but I spent so much time by myself these past few months-" Scarlett scoffed, eyebrows raising in skepticism. "-that I realized it was too late to fix things. I mean…at least that's the conclusion I came to, before I saw you at that bar a few weeks ago. And I saw how sad you looked, even though you were so damn beautiful that night…I know that you've missed me since, and I think it's only right that I try to fix things now."

"What about what happened with you and that guy from that bar?"

"You see my jaw is perfectly chiseled as before and my ribs are made of steel," he smiled, holding his arms out to present himself. Scarlett gave him a once-over, her lips pursing as she tried to suppress a laugh. "Go ahead and smile; I missed that."

She turned away, shaking her head when he gently placed a finger under her chin and turned her back to him. She jerked her head back as their eyes caught each other's, she scooting back on the bench while taking a breath.

"Okay, I'm sorry," he said, holding a hand up.

"You still haven't directly answered my question about you and the guy." She dropped her arms into her lap, keeping her straight posture. "I mean for all you know I could be-"

"Dating him?"

The response surprised her as her mouth quivered a little, trying to find words and let them escape. Charlie chuckled heartily as he looked away, rubbing his nose and turning back to her.

"If you're doing it just to get back at me, it's not necessary…"

"I'm not dating him out of spite, Charlie; I'm not dating him at all." He grew a surprised but doubting expression on his face, leaning his head to the side. She rolled her eyes, sighing out of irritation. "You can believe what you want, but I'm telling you the truth."

"Baby, you can do whatever you want; I just want you to know that eventually you need to recognize that someone who'll actually give you everything you want _and need_…will still be waiting for you when you're done with all these games."

"…You're so ridiculous."

"Why do you always do this, Scarlett? Whenever I try to apologize and just tell you the truth you get so defensive – hell this was basically why we broke up in the first place. Now I try to make things right with you and you _still_ reject me, still act like I'm doing something wrong?"

"But this isn't making things right; you're just telling me that I'm stupid for talking to someone else who bashed your face in, and then you have the audacity to treat me like some dog, like I'm just gonna come crawling back to you."

"Am I wrong in thinking you're being a massive bitch right now, though?"

And just as soon as the word left his mouth, Dean slammed his fist on the barricade and walked right over to the bench, nearly burning a hole into Charlie while Scarlett looked up at him, somewhat panicked.

"Well if it isn't Super Trash!" Charlie chuckled as Scarlett rolled her eyes.

"You know, I think this conversation's over," she said quickly, getting up and pushing Dean back by his chest. "Let's just go…"

"I don't get you…" Charlie stood up, stretching a little while Dean kept his eyes narrowed on him. "When we first met you couldn't wait to see me, you always wanted to talk to me, you did everything in your power to meet me places and just be with me – I make one tiny mistake and it's all over. Then when I try to tell you the error of my ways and I try to fix shit you tell me I'm not 'doing it right,' and you protect this sack of shit you don't even know!" That "sack of shit" took a giant step forward in an attempt to finish what he started two weeks ago, but Scarlett again pushed him back, this time turning to face Charlie while standing in front of Dean. "You know what? …That's fine. Go ahead and just recycle your dramatic episode with him." He moved his glance to Dean. "Hope you enjoy it, bro."

She'd never seen or heard him act like this before; it was almost like a dream hearing Charlie with Dean standing behind her. What she did next was even more surreal, as once Charlie finished talking and stood with his arms extended, a smug smile on his face, Scarlett wiped it smooth off with a hard slap across his left cheek.

She stood there in shock, her hand flushing red but the pain was numbing quickly. With a gaping expression, Scarlett barely had time to react as she watched Charlie touch his lip then attempted to retaliate. He stopped, however, when Dean pushed Scarlett behind him and stepped forward, one fist curled up and ready and his jaw clenched. Seeing his former competition looking even more dangerous than their first encounter, Charlie stepped back slowly, holding one hand up and keeping the other on his lip.

"You'll regret that…"

He turned and walked away, leaving the two.

Dean dropped his fist and ran his hands over his hair, shutting his eyes and taking a breath before dropping his arms back to his sides. He had no idea why he thought getting involved in any of this was worth it at this point; especially after what Charlie said about Scarlett's relationship habits, he wasn't sure if her "recycling" her behavior was okay to endure. He was already half-way through the process and leading her on wouldn't help matters.

As he turned around to try to let Scarlett hear these thoughts, he saw her blonde locks flowing behind her as she was swiftly walking away.

"Scarlett…!" he called out, running to catch up with her. She didn't respond, prompting him to pull her back by the shoulder, the first time he ever touched her – and the first time he realized his strength and carelessness was overwhelming as he _jerked_ her back, instead of a gentle tug.

Scarlett stumbled back and turned around, wide-eyed and cheeks already striped with tears but more formed in her eyes at his force. She shook her head, holding her hands out. "Don't…" She waved her hands in front of him when he reached out to try to console her with an apology. "I…I don't know what I'm doing, and I'm putting you in danger…"

"What are you talking about?"

"This whole thing…" Scarlett's lip quivered and she tried her best to continue talking calmly. "I tried to talk to him to see if what I heard was true…"

"Scarlett, slow the hell down." Dean gently pushed her hands down and stepped so close to her, her heart started racing and she couldn't bear to look at his face. He bent his knees just a bit to level with her face, studying her shaking and every tear that trickled down her face. "What's going on?"

She combed back her hair and finally looked him in his eyes – those same blue eyes that struck her the first time with such understanding but this time added worry. "…He's trying to kill you."

It was supposed to register as some shocking revelation that would spiral his life out of control and turn him into that vengeful hero who'd say, 'Don't worry; I'll protect you and stop that bad guy!' – but all Dean did was straighten his legs and crack a smirk, chuckling and slowly turning his gaze from Scarlett to the distance beyond them. "Kill me, huh?" He turned back to her, placing his curled index finger under her chin and pushing her face up towards his. "I don't think so."

She slapped his hand away. "He's not kidding! You don't know what kind of power he has in this city-"

"And you don't know what kind of man I am," he immediately retorted, leaning his face deadly close to hers. His eyes shined with anger, scaring the absolute hell out of her as she held her hands to her chest. "You don't know what I'm capable of and you damn sure don't know what I've done, so if anything, it's best to worry about what'll happen to him _again_ if he tries to lay even a _finger_ on me this time."

Scarlett looked away, very close to sobbing but she held it in while backing away from him. "I don't wanna do this anymore." She looked back at him, walking back and crossing her arms. "I don't want you to get hurt, and the more I see you, the more likely you _will_ get hurt…"

"Scarlett…"

"Bye Dean Ambrose."

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** GORL BYE SCARLETT WATER U DOIN


	11. Chapter 11

_Two whole months later…_

Dean's occupational success skyrocketed, and Windham kept him out of trouble in the streets and at work. Everything was going well for him, but he was still miserable. He had plenty of money and refurnished his apartment to a more aesthetically pleasing setting, but it did nothing for his spirit. It wasn't depression; it was frustration that stayed pent-up. He didn't have outbursts, he didn't even tell Windham about anything. He just carried on with life via going through the motions. He didn't pick up any girls, nor did he find himself a steady girlfriend. Every time a woman appeared to tempt him, her face or mannerisms would somehow remind him of Scarlett. Why? He assumed it was because of his hatred for leaving things unfinished; therefore, since whatever was happening with Scarlett was left unfinished, he was haunted by her image.

But it had to be more than that. When he lay up at night, he stared at his white ceiling and smiled to himself when he imagined her green eyes shining up at him. An idea would form in her head and she'd bite on the corner of her lip, a smile curving as well before she teased him. And her scent, that vanilla… The only time he smelt it was checking one of the kitchen cabinets and making sure the extract he never used didn't go stale.

It wasn't supposed to be like this, and he hated every minute of it. What was happening to him? And why had she become so important in his life and he hadn't seen her in eight weeks, after knowing her for two?

Scarlett, meanwhile, found a job after being out of work for so long. Eva was too busy with her new job and new boyfriend that came with it that she stopped concerning herself with Scarlett's life. The good thing about this, however, was that Scarlett allowed herself to breathe and actually be single for a change. She didn't chase anyone, didn't dress for anyone, and certainly didn't go to locations where it'd be easy to find someone. Numbers were deleted from her phone and she surprised herself whenever her friends brought up anything that happened two months ago and she couldn't immediately remember. The past felt like a dream – a weird dream but one nevertheless. And she liked it that way.

One evening, she finally came home after a long day of work and walked down the complex's hallway to her apartment. She dug through her handbag for her keys, took them out, and was turning the knob when she spotted a red envelope that was slipped halfway under the door. She pushed the door open before looking around the hall, expecting someone to pop out and announce themselves as the culprit, but alas, no one. It wouldn't hurt to check its contents though, right?

She picked up the envelope and walked inside, shutting the door and throwing her bag carelessly onto the couch, its contents spilling out onto the cushions. She walked into the kitchen, putting her keys on the counter, before ripping open the envelope and pulling out a white sheet of paper folded in thirds. She opened the letter and read it over once, eyes slit in confusion, then read it again, this time muttering the words:

_Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart! Else it may be their miserable fortune, when some mightier touch than their own may have awakened all her sensibilities, to be reproached even for the calm content, the marble image of happiness which they will have imposed upon her as the warm reality._

A smile crept across her face as she had an idea who the letter was for and who sent it – but before she could completely entertain herself with guessing, her cell phone rang. Scarlett rushed over to the couch and grabbed her phone, checking the caller ID before answering in curiosity.

"Hello?"

"…Did you get the letter?"

That voice was the last one she wanted to hear.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Obviously this was tiny, but I'm trying to get a move-on so we can get to the real deal up in this story m8. WHO SENT THE (ahem, SCARLET[T]) LETTER? AND SOMEONE LOVE AMBROSE THAT LITTLE MISERABLE MENSCH


	12. Chapter 12

Dean was sprawled out in his lounge chair, fast asleep and hair disheveled, until he was woken by something thick hitting his chest. He struggled to open his eyes, but when he did, he saw a dense stack of dollars bundled by a red rubber band, much to his surprise. He sat up, taking the bundle off his chest, and lifted his legs off the arm rest to sit up in his chair when a voice startled him out of his somewhat-conscious state.

"Chris wanted you to have that."

He looked behind him to see Windham standing by the chair, hands in his jeans pockets and sporting a powder blue dress shirt. His hair was slicked back and wrapped in a tight ponytail for once – the whole vision plus the money was making Dean question if he really was as crazy as everyone else thought he was.

Chris…

Chris, from work, wanted him to have this stack of money. He hadn't seen Chris in months and yet here's Windham giving him all this for seemingly no reason.

"What is all this?" Dean asked before yawning.

"A thousand dollars, he said," Windham replied, striding over to the couch before falling into its soft cushions. "No questions asked; just for me to give it to you and say he's done with 'this shit,' whatever that 'shit' is." Dean shifted his body towards Windham in his chair, holding the stack of $1000 in his hand. "Mind telling me what the hell happened?"

"Why a thousand bucks though…?" Dean wondered aloud, still staring at that bundle in disbelief. "He said 500 that night…"

"Man you better tell me what's goin' on," Windham urged, sitting up in his seat. Dean looked up at him finally and, trying to keep himself together, used his other hand to comb back his golden brown hair.

"Remember that time I told you I was being stupid and I hit my face on a wall one night?" Windham nodded and Dean sighed. "…So I was walking home from downtown that night when Chris called me out in an alleyway. I was supposed to meet Scarlett for dinner-"

"Scarlett?"

"You know who the hell Scarlett is; don't even start." Windham held his hands up in defense as Dean continued. "I was supposed to meet her for dinner when Chris showed up, then she showed up, and she tried to keep me away from him, but he used that as an opportunity to cheap shot me. Thankfully it wasn't anything spectacular, so I kicked his ass right back. But that's mainly what happened…added to the fact that he said I owed him 500 dollars."

"For what?"

"Your guess's as good as mine, man. I asked him that and he didn't even give me a straight answer. So now this is his reward plus another 500…for whatever rea-"

The thought interrupted his comment – the thought of what Scarlett had been saying the last day he saw her. "He's trying to kill you," "You don't know what kind of power he has in this city"…Chris must've been offered this ridiculous(ly low) sum of money to kill him on behalf of Charlie. Why else would a 6'8" otherwise courteous and friendly guy just up and decide to beat a colleague up?

Dean threw the bundle to the side, shaking his head while sighing heavily. Windham looked down at the bundle on the floor, then back up at his friend, who was now messing his hair back up with his fingers ruffling through the locks. The other hand was pushing its palm against his thigh, his face grimacing before being smothered by the hand once rummaging through his hair. Whatever was happening right now was unsettling, considering the last time he tensed up this much.

"That woman's got you in the palm of her hand," Windham remarked, shaking his head and looking into the distance. Dean ended his session by removing his hand from his face, looking up at his friend with wild eyes.

"The hell are you talking about?"

"I'm talkin' about the fact that you even _listened to her_ before gettin' your ass handed to ya. Since when do you ever listen to _anyone_ before gettin' into a fight?"

Dean would answer, but Windham had a point – an annoying point, but a point nonetheless. He slumped into his chair, sighing slowly and loudly while thinking to himself. Thinking about the thousand dollars, Chris, Scarlett…that Scarlett…

"You gonna answer my question or sit there all weird like usual?"

Dean blinked and his eyes returned to his confidant, unsure of what to say. He lifted his shoulders to his ears, frowning up and rolling his lips inward. He let out a pop as he rolled his lips back out, pouting and raising his eyebrows. "I don't know what to tell you."

"I know what you can tell me, and that's that my assertion was right." Windham got off the couch and dusted off his shirt, turning around and heading towards the door. "You won't admit it but you got it in for her." He stopped walking and turned back around. "Ya fixed her; now the next step is completin' her."

"…I seriously don't know what the hell you're talking about, Windham," Dean said, shaking his head and slowly blinking. "By the way, what are you all dressed up for?"

"Well, my cowardly drinkin' buddy, I got me a date," Windham replied with a smile, adjusting his sleeves. Dean's eyes widened and he nodded in approval.

"With who?"

"You know one of your lady's friends? She had a redheaded friend named Olivia that night at Erickson's…well that's the date." As Dean smirked, turning away and Windham continuing on to the door, something just hit him and he held his finger up, wagging it before turning around one last time. "Oh, and I hope she got the letter."

Dean turned to Windham, his body straightening up. "What letter?"

"I gave Olivia a letter in a red envelope to give to…_Scaaarrleeetttt_. Wasn't signed or anything like that; just a _scaaaarrrleeeetttt_ letter." He beamed at his emphasis while Dean's eyes shifted back and forth rapidly between Windham and some empty space. When he stopped, Windham simply shrugged. "I hope your eyes don't pop out from all the faces you been makin' tonight, man…"

"What the hell did you give her a letter for?!" Dean jumped out of his chair, arms extended as he inquired. Windham held his own hand up.

"Because…" He opened the door, standing under the door frame while Dean walked towards him. "Someone had to get this shit movin' along, and Lord knows you ain't gonna do it." Dean stopped and dropped his hands at his sides, rolling his eyes. "Just try to talk to her again, man. I'm tired of seein' you look all stressed out and half-dead at work, then you come home and just lay on that chair like that. You lucky you don't crack open a ton of beers or else we'd have more problems."

"Look, I appreciate you being concerned over my well-being and shit-"

"It's too late to turn back now, man," Windham chuckled, closing the door.

Dean stared at the door, his jaw clenching and his fists gripping so tightly he felt his already-short fingernails still dig into his palms. What the hell was a letter going to do to win Scarlett back? What did the letter even say? _And why does everyone else have to butt into his and her business?_

His desire to see her again was completely transformed into a necessity, not out of admiration…but to have her see what it was like to "not do this anymore."

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** AMBROSE. _PLS. _But how is he gonna find her though? I don't even know if this is getting good I'm just writing everything out lawl.


	13. Chapter 13

"_Let men tremble to win the hand of woman, unless they win along with it the utmost passion of her heart! Else it may be their miserable fortune, when some mightier touch than their own may have awakened all her sensibilities, to be reproached even for the calm content, the marble image of happiness which they will have imposed upon her as the warm reality._"

Scarlett leaned over the counter, smiling as she put the letter down.

"Why does that strangely remind me of high school?" Eva asked on the other line.

"It's from the Scarlet Letter."

"A million years later and I still don't get what it means. Explain it to me, brainiac."

She studied the typed words, lips pouted and the ball of her foot tapping on the kitchen tile. Once she gathered her thoughts, she put her foot back down. "A guy should work for a woman's affection – if he doesn't, he risks losing her to some other guy who's better than he is and can provide for her more than he…could…" She looked into the distance, eyes beginning to widen and her mouth slightly open.

"So did you figure out who sent it?"

It couldn't have been Dean Ambrose, she assured herself. That quote implied that the woman was better off with someone who had everything she needed and wanted material-wise; he wouldn't tell her that.

…Would he?

"Scarlett, you there?"

She sighed, shaking her head and closing her eyes. Placing an elbow on the counter and her head in her hand, she stood tense, trying to collect thoughts that ruled Dean out of the equation. But everything kept pointing back to him without a plausible reason, and she grew more frustrated by the thought.

"Scarlett…"

"Yeah, I'm here," she finally replied, opening her eyes. "I…I don't know who this could be from, honestly. Could be from anybody."

"Oh stop it; you know da-" An incoming call alert interrupted Eva's sentence, and Scarlett almost jumped for joy at the sound. "What was that?"

"Another call; hold on a sec?"

"Just call me back. I'm out right now."

Would rather just wait until you get home, Scarlett thought with a pout as she hung up the call. When the other line picked up, she exhaled quietly and stood up straight. "Hello?"

Silence.

Scarlett checked if the call was even going through – it was – and rubbed the back of her neck, looking down while waiting for a response.

"…I just wanna meet you one time at…" Oh great; it was _him_.

"Nooooo, no, no, no," she chuckled, shaking her head. "You're not calling me to meet you anywhere or to even talk to you whatsoever."

"Scarlett, I-"

"I told you when we last saw each other that I can't do this anymore, and I meant that I won't see you or talk to you or anything."

"You won't even meet me somewhere to just say something to you?"

"You sent me some pointless letter and yet you wanna talk _in person_?" It was so out of character of him that she thought she wasn't talking to the right person at this point. "I don't even get what's going on with you, Dean…"

"That's funny because I don't get what's going on with you either."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're still letting that Charlie guy control you even after all this time to the point where you won't even talk to me anymore. ME, like _I'm_ the one who fucked shit up."

"I told you already…"

"You told me shit. You broke up with this guy and you sat in some bar crying to me about how he didn't treat you right and you just wanted to move on and 'find yourself.' Then when you think you hate him so much, he says he wants to kill me like that's some kind of legit threat, and you think the best solution is to ignore me – no, _never speak to me again_ and hope that he'll leave me alone. I'll give ya a newsflash, Scarlett: I haven't seen or heard anything about this guy since two months ago, and his little henchman – one of my co-workers – paid me the money he got from trying to assassinate me. So if anything, all of this…whatever the fuck it is…it's _you_. It sure as hell ain't me, because all I've been trying to do is talk to you."

"Dean-"

"It's just pathetic that you think I'm too powerless to take care of myself; I've been taking care of myself since I was kid. I've been in situations on par with getting killed, and you think some asshole from the suburbs is gonna be the one to actually stop me."

"I don't even know who you are! I only talked to you for _two weeks_, and I haven't talked to you in two months after that; how do you expect me to trust that you'll be okay when I know him better than you ever will?"

"It doesn't matter how long you've known me; the fact that you just said that proves you still have something for him somewhere…and I'm not in the picture. Shit, if I didn't know better, I'd say you told me to fuck off so you can get back together with him without me trying to tell you otherwise." That just set Scarlett off beyond recognition.

"That is the biggest load of bull I've ever heard in my life…"

"Is it? Or are you just telling _me_ that?"

"Dean, stop it-"

"I want you to tell me the truth right now."

"Not until you tell me why you sent that letter."

Another round of silence. Scarlett's anger was subsiding by small fractions, but she still wanted to just explode with hateful commentary on the entire phone call. It was ridiculous being hounded like this by a total stranger – maybe two months ago she would've been crying over it, but at this point, her attraction's flown out the window and she's found herself listening to a jealous acquaintance. Someone who didn't matter. But if he didn't matter as much as she thought he didn't, she would've hung up ages ago.

"I didn't send you that letter."

"Even bigger load of bull…"

"I mean it; I didn't write nor send you that letter. Windham did."

"…Why the hell would Windham send me a letter…?"

"I don't fucking know, Scarlett; ask him."

"Well I'm not gonna ask him, because he probably knows something that you told him; therefore, it's in _my_ best interest to ask _you_."

"I'm not telling you about that letter until you tell me the truth like I asked."

This time, the silence was on Scarlett while she rolled her eyes, looking down at the counter. She knew what she wanted to say; the thought of saying it to someone who's having a hard time believing her motives regardless was the struggle. Nevertheless, she mustered up some courage as she lifted her gaze. "I'm not trying to get back with him. I don't even know if he's still in this city or not."

"Are you sure about that?"

"Yes, I'm sure, Dean," she sighed, combing back some of her hair. "He's treated me like a dog, he's cheated on me twice, he's talked shit about me _in front of me_…I mean I may be a bit of a lovefool, but I'm not entirely stupid to think it's okay to try to fix some relationship that was full of crap as time went on."

"…You weren't stupid to begin with…"

"Oh, don't try to start with the compliments or whatever it is; everyone around me's been saying I've made stupid mistakes, whether it was trying to stay with Charlie, or meet you-"

She immediately stopped talking, regretting every bit of that last statement. It went eerily silent on the other end, but she didn't dare try to break it. She knew what she did as she bit on her bottom lip, shutting her eyes and dropping her head.

"Good to know I'm one of your stupid mistakes."

"That's not what I meant; I-"

"It's cool, Scarlett, I get it…"

"NO, you don't." She took a deep breath, feeling tears well up in her eyes but refusing to shed them. "You are a total and complete stranger to me who beat up my ex-boyfriend at a bar, and I ended up talking to you and finding some kind of attraction to you. That wasn't a stupid mistake. The mistake was thinking that because you were some 'bad guy' that I could meet you and talk to you and hopefully turn you into this angel, and I'd take full credit for making you a good guy. I didn't know, and I still don't know what I want from you."

"But I know what I want from you." Scarlett's heart raced as her eyes widened.

"…And what is that?"

"To see you again."

"But I know that; there has to be something else though…"

"If I see you in person, I'll have all your answers." That was starting to be a go-to answer for everything, and she assumed it was an attempt at a romantic gesture of his to talk in circles (riddles almost). It confused the hell out of her more than anything, but she fought off the urge to stay stubborn. "So will you?"

"…I don't wanna meet anywhere public like a restaurant or some open space." She bit on her thumb nail.

"Okay, then where?"

"Your place." For a second, it sounded as though he choked on her words while trying to digest them, and she panicked. "I mean if that's an issue, we can just meet wherever you were gonna say in the first place; that's fine too. I don't wanna push things…"

"It's fine to meet some place private, but not my place when Windham's around more often than I am."

"Well…" There she went just blindly making suggestions. "My place then? My friend Eva will be gone from for the next few days after she picks some stuff up tonight."

"Then after she's gone?"

"Coast is clear." He grunted, and she had no idea what that meant. Either outcome, she assumed he wanted to come over once she left – and she couldn't figure out if she wanted that or not. But once again… "So you'll come by around 8:30 then?"

"No later."

His confidence gave her shivers – and not in a good way. She was so confused as to what he was going to do or say next; she just wanted to be prepared, but she never could be with him. It was unsettling, but maybe that night she'd be able to settle it and things would change. Maybe she'd finally trust him, and he'd trust her in return. Maybe her internal questions and theories would finally be answered and proven. The more she thought about it, the more the idea seemed to be absolutely thrilling, and a smile grew back on her face.

"I'll see you at 8:30 then."

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Hi sorry for the wait if you were waiting. I'm so excited for the next chapter I'm already getting everything down. Hope you will be too. I also hope Scarlett came across as hella rude but being tamed by Ambrose who in turn was being hella rude to her but testing to see if she could stand up for herself. I put a lot of thought into how this was written so if it didn't come across that way, DAMN. But ya.


	14. Chapter 14

**WARNING:** Sex up in this piece. Not graphic but if you've been pruding it up this whole time then you ain't gon enjoy this chapter holla.

* * *

"So I'll be staying with Matt for…I don't know, three days or so, then I'll be back."

Eva threw her luggage bag over her shoulder and gave one last look at Scarlett, forcing a smile and placing a hand on her best friend's shoulder.

"You never did tell me who called you earlier today," she said, keeping that smile on her face. "Wanna tell me about it now before I go or are you gonna wait until it's irrelevant?"

Scarlett smiled in return, hers more genuine and secretive as she patted Eva on the back of her shoulder. "I'll wait." Eva sensed that was too much trouble to leave behind, however.

"Uh, I know that look and that pat; you are definitely up to something that I need to know about immediately…"

Scarlett simply shook her head in response, turning towards the living room clock that sat below the television set. 8:20. Her smile disappeared quickly and she turned back to Eva, starting to push her towards the door. "But if it's something that can wait, and if you trust me as much as you've said you do, then you'll have no problem staying over at Matt's without a care in the world towards me." She opened the door, gently continuing to push Eva out. "Have a nice time, BFF."

"But wait a minute-" Just as soon as Eva had turned to respond, Scarlett threw the door shut and walked away, sighing a breath of relief. "I'll still text though!" she heard through the door.

* * *

_Fifteen minutes later…_

Scarlett sat on the couch in a white tank top underneath a thin, beige shirt with sleeves at the elbows, and light blue-striped white pajama pants. Her hair in a messy ponytail, she studied the cuticles of her fingernails while contemplating changing. He was going to be there to talk, and just being in pajamas would signify a lazy, "I don't care about whatever you're here for" attitude, wouldn't it? Or would he even care about what she was wearing?

She didn't have time to act on her debating whether to change, however, as a loud knock interrupted her thoughts. She jumped up from her seat and walked swiftly to the door, tugging the hem of her shirt down before grabbing the door knob. She took one peek through the peephole of the apartment door – it was most definitely him with slicked back hair – and opened it with as much casualness as she could muster while shaking at the knees.

He wasn't some remarkable dresser either, which shouldn't have surprised her considering any other time they met – but this time it felt different. Everything felt like it should've been more upscale and taken more seriously, yet they both found themselves extremely nonchalant. She even noticed she lost that flutter in her heart when she opened the door and looked him in the eyes; instead, she was just anxious as to why he was late for once.

"I see you've dressed for the occasion," he joked with a smirk. She in return rolled her eyes, stepping aside.

"Well now that I know the fashion guru is here to save the day, come on in."

He simply chuckled, brushing past her and walking straight to the couch to take a seat. She was smacked in the face with a gust of somewhat sweet-smelling cologne – before she never smelt anything of the sort on him. She wouldn't call him scentless, but he certainly didn't have a distinct smell to him as he did tonight despite wearing that same dull leather jacket, some tight black t-shirt, and jeans without holes at the knees.

Once she closed the door, she realized dressing at least in more presentable clothes would've been more considerate, and nothing was irritating her more.

"Is that you and your…friend, or whoever?"

She looked up as she walked around the couch, catching her gaze up to where his finger was pointing: a picture on the shelf beside the TV taken at college graduation. For some reason, it felt like that picture should've been removed. "Yeah, me and Eva graduating from college," she smiled, taking a seat.

He just nodded and slowly took a seat after her, not making eye contact and instead continuing to look around the living room in plenty of awe at its cleanliness and splashes of color. Something about it felt familiar, but damn if he could remember (surely they would've redecorated since the last time he was there, right?).

"So what were we supposed to talk about?" she asked, hugging her knees to her chest with one arm while the other rested on the back of the couch. He stopped looking around, finally turning to her blankly, rubbing his lips together.

"Whatever we're supposed to clear the air about, I guess," he replied, shrugging. He leaned back in his seat, but his body didn't bother to relax, which bothered her as she watched him. "What?"

"Are you okay?"

He shrugged again, looking away and tapping his hands on his knees. She exhaled with plenty frustration, clearing her throat right after to bring his attention back to her.

"_You_ wanted to meet with _me_, yet you don't know what you wanna talk to me about."

"I mean…ideally I wanted to talk about that shit with Charlie, but we already talked about it over the phone, right?"

"Pretty much, yeah."

"So…what'd the letter say?" That question caught her completely off guard. "Or did you throw it away already?" He chuckled while she shook her head.

"No, I-" She hesitated, too baffled to keep her thoughts together. "I just…still think you had a hand in sending it to me."

"If I was gonna write you a stupid letter, it'd probably have…" he started but stopped, looking at her green eyes light up with curiosity. "Stuff in it I should say in person."

"Like…?" She unwrapped her legs and let them drape over the seat as she straightened her posture, placing one hand in her lap. His shoulders pushed up a little and he tapped his sneaker on the carpet, licking his bottom lip while turning his head away.

At that moment, he felt so out of place he wanted to jump out the window sitting just a few feet away. "Look, maybe I should go." He got up suddenly, wiping his sweaty hands on the sides of his jeans before turning towards the door. Surprised by this as well (go figure), Scarlett got up right after him, watching him walk away.

"Whoa, Dean, wait a minute…"

"You know, I said everything I had to say, and I guess we're cool and everything, so I'll just go," he said, having stopped for just a moment and holding a hand up to her. He turned back to her just a little – in fact that familiar head turn he loved so much, but this time with anxious eyes. "I don't need to know about the letter; hell, I think I'll take your advice and just stop seeing you altogether…"

"What is going on with you…?" He dropped his hand, defeated as she continued. "You're all mad over the phone, then you calm down and you wanna meet me here, and now you're quick to run off when you were the one who apparently had stuff to say…"

"I do have something to say; I just…" He turned back towards the door, sighing heavily and dropping his shoulders.

"You're scared to say it," she said casually, putting her hands on her hips. She was proud of herself for saying it, because she knew the exact result she was getting: he turned around slowly, holding a finger up and becoming incredibly tight-lipped as his eyes traveled from the floor to her face, recognizing and scowling at her smug expression. She didn't budge, however. "Don't tell me the great Dean Ambrose is…_scared_."

His eyes widened out of a spark of rage, his jaw clenching while she just stood there. She just thought she was so smart, so ahead of the game for a change – but she wasn't lying. He was, for once, acting on Windham's advice, but he still had doubt. Looking at her pretending to be tough still gave him doubt, and he wanted nothing more than to prove her wrong. He wasn't sure he should've, though.

He amped up the tension instead, by slowly approaching her, keeping that finger up and watching her confidence melt into a puddle at her feet. Her eyes filled with uncertainty as she quickly wanted to back away from him but caught herself in the act, maintaining her composure and keeping her hands on her hips. When he towered over her, his eyes meeting dangerously close to hers, she slowly blinked at him, her mouth opening just a little to catch her breath.

He opened his mouth to say something, and she fully expected some kind of snide comment before he stormed out of the apartment – but he cupped her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers, taking her aback entirely.

She didn't know what to do as her body tensed, her hands up as if to touch him, but she didn't know where to put them. That was enough of a signal to Dean to pull back, looking in her eyes and seeing that confusion…hell, it was looking a lot like disinterest, which made him remove his hands soon after. He watched her eyes toggle between his own eyes and his lips, her breath shortening by the second.

"Scarlett…" He started to attempt an apology, but she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck and pulled him back to her to press her own lips against his.

When she pulled back, she had only a few seconds to stare into his surprised but very hungry eyes before he snatched her by the waist and kissed her again, this time sneaking his tongue between her lips. She met his tongue with hers while running her hands down his chest, pushing his jacket off. After he tugged it off and threw it over the couch, he picked her up and allowed her to wrap her legs around his waist before carrying her to her bedroom.

She ran her one of her hands down his chest, softly kissing his cheekbone and moving down to his jawline. When they reached the bed, he dropped her back-first, watching her push herself further back onto the bed by her elbows until she reached the head. He removed his shoes, trying to make that look as seductive as possible which only made her giggle. When he was barefooted, he climbed onto the bed and crawled toward her, positioning himself between her legs and hovering over her. Once his face was level with hers, she wrapped her arms around his neck, and he began to slowly alternate between sucking on her bottom lip and caressing it with his tongue. Small groans escaped him in between brief pauses for air before he trailed down the side of her neck and over her collarbone. She watched as he continued down her chest over her shirt, not even bothering to move it.

He reached the fastening of her pants and sat up on his heels, letting his hands glide from the sides of her midsection to her hips. She bent her knees, providing herself some support as she pushed her hips up, providing him with assistance as he pulled her pajamas off. After throwing them aside, he pressed his palms on the tops of her thighs, sliding them down slowly as he watched her eyes shut and her head tilt back. He reached her panties and also pulled them off, this time pushing her hips back down with one hand when she tried to help. Wasting no time, he pressed his forearms onto her hips and folded his fingers, pinning her down while tasting every bit of her.

She gripped the comforter and arched her back as his wet tongue moved everywhere. He even stopped momentarily to glide the tip of his tongue along the insides of her thighs, making her toes curl as she panted at the sensation. She ran her hands through his wetted hair, gently pushing his head down as his strokes quickened, teasing her to the point of release.

Satisfied with his work, he unfolded his fingers and let his hands slide off her body, pushing himself off the bed. He stood and watched her relax, wiping his mouth with his fingertips and smirking at her shaking legs falling limp. Before she was completely rested, however, he pulled his shirt off and unzipped his jeans, removing the last bits of his clothing before crawling back onto the bed. He started a new trail of kisses, this time from her lower abdomen while pushing her shirt and tank top up. She sat up, raising her arms up as he pulled both tops over her head and continued to kiss her back up to the collarbone. When her tops were thrown to the side, he ran the tip of his tongue up the center of her neck to the point of her chin then sucked on its softness. He flicked over her parted lips before lifting her by her thighs, having her straddle him as he sat on his heels again.

In that position, she took a moment to remove the tie from her ponytail, shaking out her long blonde hair and letting it drape over her left shoulder. That signature vanilla scent of hers filled him with so much desire that he barely felt his fingertips digging into her hips, pulling her closer. This time, she hovered over him, running a thumb across his bottom lip before devouring the taste of his lips again. She moved her hand down his chest to his hard length, stroking its entirety to know the size before guiding it inside her. She felt his body quiver with how sudden the movement was, but he pulled her as close to him as he could while she rocked her hips rhythmically.

She bit on her bottom lip as she stared into his eyes, keeping her arms rested on his shoulders while his fingertips roamed up and down her smooth back. As her motions fastened, his hands moved up to her shoulders, and he hugged her to him while growling into her collarbone. Her moans echoed in his ear and drove him over the edge, causing him to pull her arms down and grip her wrists, pinning them over her head as he shoved her back down onto the bed. She lay worried, wriggling a little at the pain but keeping her eyes on his as he pulled out of her just a little.

As he stared into her eyes, he saw her fear but thought nothing else of it. "I gotta tell you what I was gonna say before…"

"Now?!" Scarlett groaned as she bent her knees slightly, catching her breath.

"I couldn't write in a fucking letter that I'm terribly in love with you." He gently pressed his forehead to hers as she started to smile – but only for a moment before he thrust himself back into her. She gasped at his force, slowly closing her eyes as he moved one of his hands from her wrist to around her neck. Careful not to choke her, he licked her cheek then sucked on her skin, moving his mouth to her ear before whispering, "I need you, Scarlett."

Another thrust made her moan loudly, and he ran the tip of his nose along her cheekbone back to her own nose. "I fuckin' need you so bad." He moved his other hand to her hairline, combing his fingers through some of the sticky strands and moving his hips methodically. He rested one forearm on the bed to hold himself up while keeping his other hand in her hair, starting to stroke harder and faster. Every pant and moan she released over his lips urged him to move faster, and he almost laughed at the pleasure that was overwhelming him. "I love you."

She held on to his bicep, wrapping her other hand around the nape of his neck as she kissed him, taking in those three words he just breathed. When she parted her lips, she listened to his groans through gritted teeth grow louder by the force of his hips, and it only got her more excited for his release. But she knew the key to making him come faster; she just had to unlock everything with one turn, one phrase.

"I love _you_, Dean," she moaned against his lips, and sure enough he dropped his head beside hers and growled into the pillow, pushing himself inside her as far as he could go and exploding. She felt her release at nearly the same time, tightening her grips on his body before he collapsed on top of her. He was undoubtedly heavy, but she held him against her like he was nothing, still running a hand through his hair while she used the other hand to claw smoothly along his back.

"Told you I can't be afraid of you forever, De-"

"Shhhhh…" Dean raised his head and looked at Scarlett, noting her small smile with one of his own. "I know for a fact that I'm afraid of _you _now, Scarlett Hawthorne."

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Okay that was my first time ever writing a sex scene in the history of ever (and I've been writing for a really long fucking time m8s), so if that didn't work for you then oh god I failed ;_; Otherwise ya it's about damn time these two horizontally boogied. BUENO FOR THEM.


	15. Chapter 15

They spent the rest of the night in bed until exhaustion struck and they both fell asleep. It was around midnight, however, when Dean opened his eyes and slid Scarlett's hand from his chest onto the bed. He carefully rose from the bed and grabbed his boxers off the floor, slipping them on before heading into the living room.

He walked around the television stand slowly, studying the shelves of DVDs, little trinkets and souvenirs Scarlett and Eva wanted displayed, and, what caught his eye the most: the framed photos. Some of Scarlett and Eva, some of Scarlett, Eva, and the two other girls they hung out with, and one of two older-looking people with a blonde-haired girl in a pink shirt standing between them. Dean stared at that picture the longest, recognizing a younger Scarlett with her parents… It reminded him of a photo he saw when he was younger, of a boy standing beside a brown-haired woman sitting down, holding the sides of his arms with a smile on her face. But the smile wasn't genuine; it looked forced on her. Hell, holding the child by the arms looked like a standard pose that someone told her to use. Scarlett's family looked so honestly happy that the reminder of that photo of the boy and the woman made Dean's blood boil. He balled his hand up in a fist and raised it but dropped it back down at his side, calming himself down and walking away.

He wanted a beer, but he decided against rummaging through the refrigerator (and the kitchen in general). That didn't stop him from walking to the counter though, when he saw a three-folded sheet of paper and a red envelope laying there. He turned back, ensuring Scarlett wasn't anywhere near the doorway or the living room, before turning back around and picking up the paper.

He must've read it at least three times before putting it back down on the counter, rubbing the back of his head with a scrunched face. Why would Windham even send her a letter like that? What does that even prove, that "_Else it may be their miserable fortune, when some mightier touch than their own may have awakened all her sensibilities__"_? It festered on his mind as he turned off the hallway and living room lights then walked back to the bedroom, having dropped his hand back to his side and yawned. He stopped just short of the bed, looking at her angel-like face – "The 'A' is for 'angelic,' I swear," he remembered hearing in that smooth voice of hers.

And it was at that moment when he realized that he fixed her. He didn't have to spend every night sleeping beside her to see how lonely and drained she was, how she barely slept and how she didn't sleep comfortably. He looked at her now and saw a major difference: she was so peaceful, relaxed and full of life. He saw and felt that for three hours earlier in the night, but it was a gorgeous sight to behold at that moment.

Dean climbed back into bed and turned on his side to face her, petting back some of her hair before running a finger lightly down her cheek. He continued down her jawline to her chin, brushing the edge with his fingertip. He felt the urge to taste her skin again, to wake her up and continue what they thought they concluded earlier, but instead he reached back and turned off her bedside lamp, darkening the room but allowing a dim glow to shine in through the curtains of the window. It was because of this glow that Scarlett looked absolutely stunning – almost unreal – just lying there and letting the glow brighten her skin and hair. He smiled to himself, shutting his eyes after tucking his hands under the pillow and nestling in its firmness.

He woke up around 8 AM, almost having forgotten where he ended up but remembering and absorbing it. As he lay on his back, yawning and scratching his forehead, the bathroom door opened and Scarlett walked out in a flurry of freshness and excitement (not to mention her perfume filled the entire room once the door opened). He watched her crawl onto the bed and put one arm over him, leaning in close to his face before giving him a peck on the lips with a smile.

"Good morning," she whispered. "Unfortunately, I have to be at work in two hours."

"That's plenty of time." He wrapped one of his arms around her waist and pulled her onto him, using the other hand to run up her black camisole. But before he could get comfortable, Scarlett pushed herself off of him, sitting on her heels while he sat up as well.

"Don't you have work too? I don't wanna take up any of your time to get there…"

"I have to go home and change first anyways; I won't be late." He pushed back some of his hair, yawning again while she nodded in response. "I just wanna ask you something."

"Ask me what?" She perked up, putting her hands in her lap.

"What do you think that letter meant?"

He played with his fingertips as she exhaled in frustration, her shoulders dropping while she stared at him. "…You really had nothing to do with it?"

"I told you last night: I wouldn't write a letter to tell you what I wanted to say if I could just say it to your face. I don't know what it meant, but I know that Windham wrote it because he wanted to move…'us' along. Clearly, it helped." He gave her a smirk, but she was only confused by his words.

"What does he have to do with any of this?"

"Nothing."

"He doesn't need to interfere with things since you can take care of yourself, remember?"

"Well Eva didn't need to tell you to not mess around with me since you're a grown woman, did she?" She looked away, growing tight-lipped by the second as he shook his head, trying to move past the regret of that last statement and her face after it. "Do you know what the letter means, Scarlett?"

She turned back to him slowly. "I have a feeling it means I would've ended up with Charlie if you didn't do anything to change my mind." Those last words were especially daunting as Dean raised an eyebrow at her.

"'Change your mind'?" She was about to speak, but he held a hand up to her. "You were still gonna try to get back with him had you not gotten that letter and had I not called you?"

"No, Dean," she sighed, tilting her head out of defeat. "But if he had made any advances I probably wouldn't have rejected them."

"But why…?"

"…I don't know." She dropped her shoulders, looking down at her fingers. He could barely get any words out; he was so shocked by her answer. Two months later and she still felt this way – his ego and everything else just felt so deflated at that point. But before he managed to get something out, she spoke back up. "I don't feel the same way now, though."

He looked up at her in surprise, she returning his look with a warm smile.

"Did you mean it though?" she asked when he looked down for only a second. He looked back at her, once again confused.

"Mean what?"

"That you were in love with me, you loved me in general, you needed me, all that…" She smiled more broadly, half expecting him to say it was just in the moment – the other half to be that he did mean it.

He looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. "I haven't felt this way about anyone, Scarlett…" He looked back at her, dropping his hand. "My job's fine, my friends are cool, but I didn't care, knowing that you stopped talking to me. I haven't met anyone like you – not even that ex." Her expression changed to being overwhelmingly flattered as he continued. "That night you took care of me when Chris kicked my ass, I lay right here, and I felt like I was at home. And I saw how you didn't care if I was some creepy dude or a total stranger; you just wanted to take care of someone. You actually gave a shit then, and you give a shit now, which is more than I can say for a lot of other chicks in this city that I've…uh, dipped into."

"That wasn't needed," she chuckled, cringing in disgust as he laughed.

"You see how you're just so perfect?"

"Stop it," she groaned, holding a hand up as she moved her legs out from under her and crossed them over one another. "I'm far from it, goof."

"You're everything I want." An intense seriousness in his eyes made her stare right back at him, absorbing what he was saying. "I don't care if we still barely know each other; I feel like a complete jackass for not knowing you longer, and I just wanna know more. I need to know more…because I need you with me."

She bit the side of her lip, slightly curving her mouth into a smile while a small laugh escaped her. For once in her life, she wasn't comparing this moment to any moments she didn't have with ex-boyfriends; it was just the first time she heard it from Dean, and the first time in a while that she felt important.

"Come here," she beckoned, separating her legs and raising her arms out. He didn't think twice and crawled to her, letting her wrap her arms around his neck. He positioned himself between her legs, kissing her while she lowered back-first onto the bed and pulled him down with her. She ran her hands through his already-messy hair, taking delight in its softness.

He started kissing down the side of her neck before raising his head up suddenly, her hands ceasing to move. "You know, I love your hands, but you're making it harder for me to get my hair together for work…"

"I'm so sorry," she laughed. But she tormented him by roughly teasing his hair, waiting for his reaction eagerly. He slit his eyes, a noise of exaggerated anger groveling in his throat as she dropped her hands beside her head, pursing her lips to avoid laughing even more.

Before he could reply, he heard a familiar chime coming from the distance – then realized it was his phone ringing from the pocket of his leather jacket in the living room. He looked up toward the bedroom door then back down at Scarlett, who had followed his eyes and met his when they returned to her.

"Next time bring your jacket in here…" she smiled while he looked at her in surprise yet again.

"'Next time'?" She simply nodded, watching as his expression shifted to excitement before he kissed her again. But just as quickly, he jumped off the bed and ran into the living room to catch the call.

"What?"

"Well hello to you too…" Windham chuckled on the other line as Dean rolled his eyes. "What time are you gettin' to work?"

"Probably 10 or 11…"

"And you do realize you're supposed to be there at 9, right?"

"Well I'm a little far away from the sight right no-"

"I KNEW IT!" He yelled so loud Dean had to move the phone from his ear for a moment. "I _knew _you went to her house and scored the deal! Ooooooooh you dog!"

"We went over that 'dog' business already, _Windy_."

"You don't know how glad I am that shit's all taken care of; good lord. Y'all were all Olivia and I talked about over dinner last night."

"How was that anyways?"

"_Great_. Hey, if all goes well, we cou-"

"No."

"You don't even know what I'm gonna say."

"I'm not going on a double date with you or anybody else. She's all for me."

"Easy there, tiger; you only spent a night – well, this is the second night, but regardless you ain't known her that long to call her yours yet."

"No, but I'll get there." He smirked into the distance at the thought: it wasn't marriage, but it was certainly the kind of bliss he wanted and needed with just her, nobody else. "At any rate, I'm glad you called. I wanted to, I guess, thank you for the letter."

"Oh sure, man. Anything to help."

"Yeah except…what the hell was up with the book reference? Sounded like you were trying to tell Scarlett that you'll capitalize on her if I didn't…" He chuckled, but it was deadly silent on the other end. He abruptly stopped, the smile dropping from his face. "…_Is_ that what you were trying to say?"

"Man, I don't _even_ know what you're talkin' about."

"Windham…"

"I didn't write no book reference or whatever you're talkin' about. I wrote a literal letter sayin', 'Dear Scarlett, I love you, you're beautiful, please fall in love with me, Love, your Deaniekins' and all that mess. Nothin' about some book."

Dean stared at the counter where the opened letter still lay, eyebrows furrowed and mouth opened to say something, but nothing was coming to mind immediately.

"Did Scarlett get some letter with that shit you're talkin' about?"

"…Yeah." He walked up to the counter to read the letter again, hoping he was just delirious with sleep and was magically obsessed with the quote enough to imagine it on paper. Sure enough he wasn't, and the quote was still there. "She never got the letter you're talking about…"

"Who intercepted my letter then?!"

"That's what I'd like to know…"

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** You realize I couldn't let this qt story stay qt until some Russo shit went down right? P.S. A lot of stuff in the beginning is set up for the reader for later stuff. So don't think he was getting mad at pictures just because LOLDEANAMBROSE; there's a point to it I swear.


	16. Chapter 16

After 20 reps, Dean put the dumbbell on the ground beside his bench and took a breath, looking up at his reflection in the gym mirror. The growing heat outside was quickly pulling the energy out of him after only an hour's worth of weight lifting, and his face carried the exhaustion in addition to large beads of sweat running down the sides of his face. His right arm throbbed after the weight curls, but there was an extra soreness that he hadn't felt in years. Nothing felt right.

Supposedly it was some kind of romantic gesture to send Scarlett a letter in a red envelope. It would woo her sensationally and she'd instantly fall in love with whoever revealed himself to be the author – but that thought alone irritated Dean to no end. Whether it was Windham or whoever, Scarlett wasn't that desperate. He was positive of it. Any desperation she had was to slap the taste out of Charlie's mouth, and she did that. Finding someone else wasn't something she was in a hurry to do…unless it meant _him_.

That's when it dawned on him how easy it was for her to say she loved him, despite yelling at him before about how he was a complete stranger and she didn't want anything to do with him. None of it made sense in retrospect: maybe she was just saying it in the heat of the moment; therefore, she didn't mean it. Maybe she thought she meant it but in reality she only said it to make him happy. But he just refused to believe that she was _that_ desperate. Why would she be? He was nothing more than some hapless guy who beat up a douchebag – this is common knowledge by now.

So maybe it wasn't Scarlett who was relying on Charlie's every word; maybe it was him. Dean couldn't let go of that day when she met up with Charlie: how he basically called her a pushover and how what she was doing was "recycled."

Recycled.

It was done before many times, and it was a beneficial process. For who exactly, or for what?

Pieces kept floating around Dean's mind as he drank from his water bottle, feeling the coolness of the water travel smoothly down his dry throat. He was by himself in this small weights room, and that's exactly how he liked it. But as soon as he was beginning to enjoy the silence, the doors burst open and in walked three of his co-workers, all carrying duffel bags over their shoulders and water bottles in their hands. They waved at him casually and took various places around the room – they seemed to act like they understood his mindset at the time and didn't want to bother trying to hold conversation when it wouldn't lead anywhere. At least that's how Dean thought they acted, what with their eye contact being extremely brief and their placement in the gym at far ends of the room.

It was no matter though; he never really confided in any of them. And he suddenly lost interest in lifting any more weights, so he stood up and carried his water bottle with him as he walked out, not bothering to announce his departure.

"Where you headed off to?"

He turned around as he was carrying his duffel bag, not bothering to look up at the voice obviously belonging to Windham. "Home."

"You just got here like three hours ago; what's goin' on?"

"…I don't feel good." He looked up at him finally, forcefully frowning and pushing himself to look as sick as possible before turning back around, heading out the door of the building. Windham shook his head and hustled after him, walking up beside him as Dean continued down the street.

"It's about them letters, huh?"

"Go back to work." Dean grabbed his white baseball cap out of his bag and positioned it backwards on his head.

"I don't know what you're worried about; whoever took my letter just got a love letter from a Dean. Doesn't mean they're gonna come after you." They stopped in the middle of the street, checking both sides before jogging across. Once they hit the opposite sidewalk, Windham retraced his last sentence. "I hope I didn't add your address, come to think of it…"

"It's really not about those letters or whatever's going on," Dean said, stopping his walking to turn entirely to Windham. "…I just don't know if what I'm feeling is being reciprocated, and I don't know who to trust at this point."

"You don't know who to trust…?"

"I don't know if Scarlett's being honest with me, I have no idea if I'm still listening to whatever that dick said about her before, and I don't know what anybody else wants from me anymore. I mean you're pushing me in one direction, she's pulling me in another, this fucking job's pulling me in an entirely _different_ direction-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, man; slow down." Windham put a hand on his pal's shoulder, watching as Dean dropped his head. "Since when do you care what anybody else wants or needs from you?"

"Since I fell in love with her, alright?"

He shut his mouth, clenching his jaw as he looked away with much regret in his face. Now that Windham knew, he'd never let him live it down – but at the same time, it felt great to be honest with himself to someone he'd been lying to before in a way.

"I told her last night and…I don't know, maybe she said it back just because of the moment. I believe her, but there's just a part of me that doesn't get why she'd get another letter and then why she'd be so mad at me earlier in the day and suddenly love me like she said she did later on."

"Y'all been draggin' this thing on for a while though, remember?"

"That doesn't matter. She said she'll stop talking to me; she did. Then when we have sex suddenly she loves me?"

"Maybe she needed validation from you first…"

"No, no, no, screw that. If she meant it she would've said so long before I did. And she would've done something about it instead of leaving me alone for two months."

"You need to chill out, Dean." The use of his first name signified that Windham was about to get serious, and Dean's blue eyes widened in surprise at the unexpectedness. "That was just _one_ night, and she was only protectin' you that one day because she was genuinely scared for you. You ain't chasin' another one away because of your paranoia. Scarlett's probably the best thing that ever happened to you, and I ain't gon let you screw it up because you think you don't deserve someone as great as you say she is."

He didn't have anything to combat with for a change. He turned his head away, biting on his bottom lip while Windham stared at him angrily.

"Well?" Windham asked after that pause, putting his hands on his hips.

"Who else could've sent her a letter, Windham?" Dean replied, turning back to him slowly. "That's what I need to know to have some peace of mind, or else I'll never believe her. I mean what if it's all a set-up, and she's-"

"STOP!" Windham threw his hands up in Dean's face, waving them frantically as Dean cut himself off. "She ain't like that, man!"

Dean refused to listen as he continued down the street, taking another sip of water and leaving Windham standing there with his hands still up.

"LISTEN TO ME!"

But he ignored that plea as well.

* * *

He had went home and lay on his couch for the rest of the afternoon, hands covering his face and in deep thought about everything that was changing for him. It nauseated him how confused he suddenly was, even though last night was perfect. Last night, when he lay in her arms while she pet his hair. When he felt her hot breath repeatedly blow out over his lips, and he looked into her glittering eyes, eyes that were severely involved in the moment and craved more out of him physically. It was incredible – so why was there _any_ room for doubt?

When it reached 6:55, he pulled a lighter out of one of the kitchen drawers and lit the small candle in the center of the dining table. It wasn't much of a set-up: two white plates, two forks, two knives, two glasses, and two napkins all resting on the wooden tabletop without a table cloth. He steamed vegetables to go with a pre-roasted chicken and placed a large water bottle on the counter – everything just set to whatever he could fix without looking like a try-hard. She would be arriving at 7 (sharp, hopefully), and he said for her to dress "nice." After this extremely long day, he wanted nothing more out of her than to get answers for real and not get sucked into any kind of trap she'd have.

He even dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt – both of which were clean and hole-free – to give the impression that he wasn't taking this seriously, yet he was serious enough to look clean for her. He just didn't know what to expect out of this dinner.

He didn't have time to ponder about it though, as he heard a brief but audible knocking at his apartment door. He double-checked the candle's flame before stuffing the lighter in his side pocket, rubbing his hands together, and walking to the door. He ran a hand over his slicked back hair swiftly before reaching the door, pulling the door knob back and opening to see her standing there.

He felt an overwhelming pressure to call the whole evening off as soon as he looked at those green eyes, being drawn in to their shine before roaming down to her glossy, pink lips, parted to show off pearly whites that were just as blinding as her eyes. He was at a loss for words, gaping at her excitement to be there and wondering about their future conversation, hence that smile.

"Hi," he heard her say, but his glance just moved down to the rest of her. She definitely understood the "nice" part of his request, as she sported a pink strapless dress and white blazer. It caught him off-guard how wonderful she looked though, and by the time his gaze returned from her cream-colored heels back to her face, she had raised an eyebrow. "Did I overdress?"

"What?" he said, scrunching up his face and chuckling to keep the mood light. "Definitely not; you look beautiful." He gestured for her to enter, and as she walked inside, he shut the door behind him and dropped his smile, trying to maintain his composure. He had no idea how this night was going to continue, and he wasn't sure he wanted to find out.

Regardless, he sat through a perfectly manageable dinner with her, laughing at her jokes while she had not a care in the world other than to be in that moment-

"So, before this wild party gets out of hand…" She put her glass back on the table as he shook his head, escaping from his zone and giving her a smile. "Are you okay?"

"I feel like you ask me that a lot more than you actually have."

"Well I'm worried about you. This morning you just left in such a hurry, and throughout dinner you were pretty distant with conversation. Everything okay at work?"

He sighed, lowering his head. "It's fine at work; I just…" He looked back up at her concerned expression and regretted starting the sentence. "Nothing."

"I'm not taking that for an answer."

"I don't feel like we should talk about it – not now at least."

"But if we don't talk about it now, we'll never talk about it," she smirked, trying to ease the tension. But he only refused eye contact and actually looked on the verge of vomiting right there. "Dean, what is going on…?"

"It's about the letter." She sat back in her chair, rolling her eyes and crossing her arms as he shrugged. "I was on the phone with Windham this morning, and he told me what he wrote in his letter…and it wasn't what you read." Her face changed from confusion to disappointment in mere seconds as he continued, looking directly at her. "I don't know who else could've sent something to you, but it bothers me because of last night. I mean I called you and you chewed me out, then I get to your place and I tell you I love you, but…I don't know if you feel the same. And that scares me."

He stopped to study her face as she grew tense, staring at him blankly in return. She was hiding something.

"If there's something you haven't told me, I'd like to hear it…"

"Yeah there is," she responded. He held a hand out for her to continue. "Um…Charlie called me a month ago and, like the moron he is, asked how _you_ were. I told him I wouldn't know since I stopped talking to you starting from that one day. He asked why, and I told him because I was scared he was actually gonna try to kill you, and I wanted to protect you the only way I knew how. He laughed and said it was a 'joke,' or something that he wasn't gonna actually follow through with because it was just a ploy to get you out of the picture. I asked why he wanted me back so much, and…he said because he still loves me."

"Oh, bullshit."

"I don't know if it is, Dean." He looked at her in disbelief, completely caught off-guard by her defense. "But he also asked me why I was so into you, and I said…" His expression shifted to intrigue, making her stumble on her words. "I said…it's because you're supportive, you protect me, and…you care about me. And he said if I gave him another chance, now that he's a new man and realized his mistakes, he'd be able to do all of that for me again – especially since you were out of the picture. And that's probably why he could've sent the letter I read, come to think of it."

His ears were burning at everything he was hearing. She had pity in her voice – she believed everything he said to her – and he felt like he was being betrayed right at his own dining table. It irritated the hell out of him. "So, what about last night then?"

"What about it?"

"You were mad that I questioned you still being in love with Charlie, and then I told you that I'm in love with you, that I love you – while I was screwing you, might I add – and you said it right back. Did you mean it?"

"Of course I meant it."

"But you're still in love with Charlie."

"No, I'm not." He slapped his hand on the table, sensing deceit. "There is a fine difference between loving someone and being in love, you know…"

"So which is it with him?" His eyes filled with an overwhelming sadness at the potential of the answer he didn't want to hear. She looked down, her eyes filling with tears, but he wasn't concerned with her emotions at this point. She brought this upon herself essentially; she'll have to understand how to get out of it. "_Which is it, Scarlett?_"

She looked back up at him slowly, a couple of tears streaming down her blushed cheeks. "I still love him."

He sat back in his seat, clenching his jaw as he looked at the table still covered in messy dishes from a meal he wasted time preparing, a candle he shouldn't have lit for a false mood to set…

"…But I love you too." He shook his head as she tried to continue. "I just don't know if I'm _in_ love with you-"

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I don't know you! Haven't I been saying that the past few months already?!"

"Don't you see I'm trying to fix that?" He sat up in his seat again as she sighed, looking away and continuing to tear up. "I don't know what it is, but I'm so attracted to you it's pathetic. And all I've been doing is trying to let you see that and maybe – JUST MAYBE – fall in love with _me_ but what are you even doing, Scarlett? You're still letting that guy have some kind of control over you!"

"So what do you want me to do?" She turned back to him, rubbing her lips together and tasting the saltiness of her own angry tears. "What, Dean? What do you think I should do? Please control me so I don't have to be controlled by someone else."

"Oh, stop it."

"This is exactly what this is! You just don't wanna see it because you think you're better than he is, and yeah…yeah, you are, but you can't act like he's the only manipulative one between the two of you."

"Don't sit here and compare that piece of shit to me in my own place." The rage that she saw the first night she stood close to him was apparent, and she refused to say anything in response. "You know I may not be this really cool guy with powder blue polo shirts, and I may not have daddy's money – since who knows where my father is anyway – but I know what I want and I know how to get it. I don't lie to people; I don't need to. I'm secure about myself. That's exactly why I want you, because you know that. And you just want someone to support you, and protect you, and care about you. _I DO_. I'm not trying to control you; if anything, _you_ control _me _with how beautiful you are, and the way you're not afraid to tell me exactly how you feel like you are now.

"You don't need someone like him, and you gotta fuckin' understand that. I'm not saying you need me; you don't, if we're going by society's standards, but I'd like to think that you want someone who knows how important you are and will honor that. And I don't know what else I can do to prove that to you." She managed to give him a small smile at one point, but he was overcome with so much anger that he bypassed it. She still shed tears though, and he wasn't sure if it was out of joy at what he was saying, or because she knew she royally screwed things up. "I can always kill him, if that's what it takes to get him out of sight." She chuckled, shaking her head. "Just say the word, and I'll do it. I'll do anything for you."

"But you-"

"I really, _really_ wish you'd stop saying I barely know you," he interrupted, holding a hand up at her. "You know when you meet someone and they just captivate you? Just takes over your life? …That's been you. Why won't you let it be you?"

She wiped the remaining tears from her cheeks, sniffing as she tilted her head at him. "I don't know."

"I'm not taking that for an answer."

"Because." She raised her head back to parallel position as he smiled in surprise, not expecting that kind of childish answer from her – but she finished it thankfully. "I don't wanna disappoint you when you realize that I'm not all as cracked up as you make me out to be."

He got up from his chair and walked around the table, extending his hand for her to take. She did reluctantly, standing up as he released her hand and wrapped his big arms around her waist and pulled her as close to him as he could. She wrapped her arms around his neck, but she wasn't as involved in holding him as he was. He tried to catch her attention by pressing his forehead to hers, staring at her intently as she continued to look away. But the more he awkwardly stared, the more she couldn't control her giggling and trying to keep her eyes away, and she eventually let a few laughs escape as she finally looked back into his eyes.

"That's up for me to decide," he said in a low voice, his hand sliding up her back to her head and petting back some of her hair. "And I don't ever need to decide that."

She didn't say anything else; just a nod of her head before she kissed him on his parted lips to thank him for that reassurance. For the first time in a while, he felt that she believed a compliment someone paid her, and he believed that she understood where he was coming from. And what's more: he felt that she was finally his.

But he still wasn't sure if he was hers, and he didn't know if he ever would be.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** muh qt paranoid ambrose PLS LOVE SCARLETT ANYWAYS JUST FORCE YOURSELF ON HER - okay maybe not that but ya. i'm so excited for this chapter because this is where IT BEGINS~. the "it" you'll just have to wait and see of course, but let's just say i had an idea i was dead-set on before, but after a while i realized this new direction i have would be so much more fun to write hence the "it." SO BE READY etc.

I'm a horrible hype machine I know.


	17. Chapter 17

_Three weeks later…_

"HEYY!"

Windham's normally low voice was traded in for a louder, commanding tone as he banged on Dean's apartment door. Scarlett lifted her head up quickly, eyes shot wide open as she looked toward his bedroom door in a panic. Dean, meanwhile, merely turned his head to his left, subconsciously expecting to rest his chin on her head, but he felt nothing. He didn't budge, however, and simply turned his entire body over on his side while Scarlett sat up in bed.

"I NEED TO TALK TO YOU MAN! OPEN UP!"

Scarlett checked her phone clock: 10 AM. She sighed in relief and grabbed her pair of white shorts off the floor, slipping them over her panties. She headed toward the door but saw his closet wide open, and, instead of simply putting on her t-shirt she came into this apartment with, she grabbed the closest dress shirt she found hanging. Hell, it was one of only three she found in there: a light blue one that was perfectly ironed. She almost didn't want to roll up its sleeves, but they were too long, and she knew he wouldn't mind as she turned back to the bed and smiled at the sight: he lying there completely knocked out, his hair a mess and his bony fingers slightly bent as they laid in front of his face. She buttoned the bottom half of the shirt and walked out of the room, content with seeing him completely at peace.

"DEAN, SERIOUSLY, OPEN THE DOO-"

She opened the door just a little, poking her head out and giving Windham a small smile. "Good morning to you too. He's asleep."

"At 10? He's usually awake at 7:30 for god's sake…"

"He had a long night."

"Hey, what y'all do is none of my business…"

"No, _Windham_; not that kind of night," she smirked, shaking her head. "Come in."

"You live here now all of a sudden?" He walked in as she opened the door further, standing to the side.

"I could…"

"You really should," Windham chuckled, taking a seat on the couch while Scarlett shut the door and joined him in the living room. "Lord knows he barely keeps everythin' clean around here; a woman's touch would be nice."

"I don't even keep my own place nice," she laughed. "But anyways, do you need me to wake him?"

"Actually, this involves you. Maybe it's good you're here and good you sit down."

Scarlett slowly took a seat in Dean's favorite lounge chair, sitting on its edge and being mindful of Windham's worried face as he rubbed the back of his neck. "…What's going on?"

"Well," Windham started, but he stopped, gulping and folding his fingers over one another. Scarlett shook her leg in anxiousness, resting her hands in her lap. "…Well, one of our buddies at work was talkin' about how he got jumped by this one dude a couple nights ago. The guy who jumped him said it was a message to Dean to 'get away from the girl' and somethin' about a boss. Now I can only assume it's one person in particular that's got it in for our good ol' sleepyhead in there, and I'm fixin' to find out if I'm right."

"What does that mean?"

"I'ma need you to tell me where Charlie lives, so Dean and I ca-"

"Nooo, no, Windham," Scarlett jumped in, waving her hands up at him as he looked at her in disbelief. "I can't let you do that."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because you don't know what he's capable of." Windham threw his head back and laughed heartily, clutching at his stomach while she sat annoyed. "Dean had the same reaction, and I'm sorry that you both think just because Charlie wears bright shirts that suddenly he's too stupid to plan things out."

"Why are you defendin' him is my question."

"I'm not defending him; I just know what he's about."

"And what exactly is he about, Miss Smarts?"

"He's smug. He thinks exaggerating is scary and funny, so the fact that he's paying these people to beat up all these guys associated with Dean is gonna get Dean to snap and try to find him. When Charlie gets him right where he wants him, he's gonna beat him up right there as well. In your case, if you just show up to his house and say, 'I'm Dean's friend and I'm coming for your ass,' he'll do the exact thing I just said to you."

"But you're actin' like I'm some 5'4" stringy-haired dope who don't know how to fight. And Dean is 6'4" and almost broke that boy's jaw; you really think he needs back-up or can't defend himself?"

"I just don't need to see either of you or anyone else get hurt."

"You won't see it, because we gon go by ourselves and come back like valiant World War II heroes." Scarlett lightly chuckled as she lowered her head, uncomfortable with his confidence. Both he and Dean had this swagger about them that made her believe their strengths, but she still had doubt. She always would. "Just let us take care of this, Scarlett."

She ran a hand through her hair, looking down at the carpeted floor and feeling his stare at her. It was definitely not her place to decide what they were going to do, but all of this…it had to stop. Somewhere along the way she thought it felt good to have all this attention – but she knew in her heart the attention from Charlie wasn't even in the interest of her but rather him. Dean's attention was fully on her, and that was why she felt this urge to protect him. To soil all of that by telling him and someone else he cares about that they can go ahead and get beat up some guy and his hired help would've been wrong on all kinds of levels. She couldn't do that to herself, to Windham, and especially not to Dean.

"What would you plan on doing if I were to give you his address?"

Windham perked his head up, relieved she even replied, let alone considered letting them do whatever. "Rough him up."

"But he threatened Dean's life; I don't know if that'd settle things."

"Well I don't know how Dean thinks, and I'm not here for that. I personally saw two co-workers now gettin' their asses kicked by people who are blinded by the green to realize what they're doin' and it's irritatin'. For me to sit back and do nothin' would beat my purpose of being a friend to these two co-workers, and I ain't about to put that in jeopardy…for you."

She nodded, looking away.

"I'm sorry if that sounded rude, but it's true. I don't know you that well Scarlett, and as much as you are a sweetheart, I can't just trust your decisions and go by your lead. I gotta step in at some point and take care of business myself. And if that means that I can do it, and Dean won't, then that's fine with me as well. But just know you only makin' matters worse by not lettin' him gain his measure of revenge for getting knocked loopy."

"So what do you think Dean would do?"

"I just told you; I don't know how he thinks…"

"But hypothetically speaking, what would he do?"

Windham raised his eyebrows, pursing his lips in thought before looking up at her. "Honestly?" She nodded impatiently. "…Kill him with his bare hands and cook his remains over that there stove."

"Scarlett…?" She heard a faint voice coming from the bedroom, and she turned her head toward the entry way. Windham simply stood up, exhaling to himself.

"That's your queue, Ann Darrow." He walked to the door as she got up and followed behind, folding her arms over her chest. When they reached the door, he opened it and turned around one more time, facing Scarlett as she held on to the doorknob. "Don't mention this to him. I'll do it."

She looked down his neck as he walked out and down the hall, leaving her staring at the wall ahead of her before shutting the door.

Upon returning to the bedroom, she saw Dean with his hands covering his face while lying on his back, his lower body the only part covered by his bed spread.

"About time you woke up," she said with a smile, climbing onto the bed and crawling over him as he removed his hands from his face and slapped them onto the bed.

"Who was that you were talking to?"

She hovered over him, easing herself down to lay on top of him. "_That_ was your dear friend Windham." He slowly ran his hands over the small of her back as she rested a hand on his bare chest. "He wanted to know if you were awake yet to go hang out and whatnot."

"Did you tell him no?" His voice stayed draggy and low as he studied her face. She looked at him in surprise, giggling.

"Why would I do that? You hate him now or something?"

"Nope," he nearly whispered as he closed his eyes, rubbing the tip of his nose against hers. "I just wanna stay right here with you." He kissed her lightly before opening his eyes again, looking down the side of her neck and to the collar of what he recognized as his shirt. "And get you out of my favorite shirt."

"Am I ruining it?" she asked with a smirk.

"You're making it smell good, that's for sure." He smiled at her as she returned his gesture, moving her hand from his chest to the side of his face and pushing back a couple of unruly strands of hair from his temple.

"You should go hang out with Windham," she whispered against his lips. He wrinkled his brow as she kissed his upper lip, quickly rolling off of him onto the other side of the bed and lying on her back. "I think he needs to talk to you about something."

"Well whatever he needs to talk about, it can wait," he replied, rolling over to lie beside her. He ran his hand under the shirt and along her abdomen, watching as she squirmed a little out of ticklishness and turning away. "I had different plans for last night and I plan on going through with them right now…"

He started kissing on her neck just below the ear, moving down the side to the collarbone while gently pinching her sides. She giggled uncontrollably, trying to shift her body away from him as he kept pinching her with a cocky smirk on his face. She finally pushed his hand away and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, pushing the hem of the shirt down and resting on her heels.

"Go see him," she urged while trying to hold back laughter. He sat up, resting on his left arm as he looked at her, losing his smirk.

"What does he need to talk to me about, Scarlett?" His eyes narrowed in intrigue as she took a breath, combing back her hair again.

"You have to ask him," she responded, starting to unbutton the shirt and not making eye contact. "He said it'll really interest you, and he wants to talk about it no later than today. That's all he wanted me to tell you." She pulled the shirt off, revealing the white camisole that she wore to bed – and the one Dean wanted to pull off right then and there as he watched her take his shirt off slowly with his teeth biting down on his bottom lip.

"If I go…"

"We can do whatever afterward." She threw his shirt over his face, getting off the bed. "Right now please go talk to him." He removed the shirt from his face as she walked around to his side of the bed again, this time simply placing her arms on both sides of him. He looked up at her confused, sensing the concern in her eyes as she stared into his tired blues.

"This is more than just hanging out and needing to talk to me, isn't it?" he asked with distance in his voice, looking all over her face for some clues to an answer. She leaned in closer to his face.

"I want you to tell him what you told me last night." He immediately turned away from her, shaking his head. "He needs to know, Dean." He turned back to her, reluctance covering his entire face as he exhaled.

"…Fine. Fine, I'll tell him."

"Thank you." She rewarded him with a sneak of her tongue between his lips as she held her lips against his for what could've been forever. Alas, she pulled back and stood up straight, smiling down at him as he lay back down on the bed, crossing his arms over his face. "Uh, when I suggested to meet him and whatnot, I meant 'get out of bed _now_ and go…'"

"If I'm gonna meet up, I'll do it when I'm ready." He smirked to himself as she playfully hit one of his arms, shaking her head and turning away.

"You gonna tell him when and where too?"

"If I didn't, we'd never have been friends. How'd you think I figured out how to meet with you?"

"I assumed you were just being weird and unnerving."

"I mean that's part of it, but not the whole thing…"

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** What do you think Dean has to tell Windy? Do you think they'll discuss a plan to merk Charles? Will Scarlett get to wear his shirt full-time? FIND OUT NEXT WEEK ON FIX ME CHAPTER 18.

Or something. It'll be sooner than next week, don't worry.


	18. Chapter 18

_Three days ago…_

**Scarlett, **

He held the letter in his hand, reading the contents over and over through slit eyes of irritation. **I don't know why you stopped talking to me, but I wish you could see how much I care about you.**He pulled a lighter out of his pocket, the one beside his box of cigarettes, and flicked the wheel before pushing down on the gas lever. He stared at the flame then turned his attention to the letter again. **I saw something in you the first time I saw you, and I can't stand the thought of you not being in my life, not after everything we've said to each other already.** He held the lighter just below the letter, contemplating it but taking a moment to clench his jaw, thinking about what he was reading. Did he really want to do this? **Hopefully when you read this you'll find it in your heart somewhere to at least call me so we can talk. I miss your voice, I miss your presence…I miss you.** Yes he did. He lit the bottom edge and stared at the flame beginning to engulf the rest of the paper before throwing it in the fireplace.

**Dean**

He walked into his dining room, studying the round glass table topped with pairs of folded hands, hands belonging to four different men with massive arm muscles sitting in the black chairs. He took his place at the head of the table, taking a moment to look around the white-walled room as he took a seat.

"Three of you," Charlie surveyed, gesturing to each man at the table. "I'm paying each of you 900 dollars. So, a grand total of $2, 700 is being spent on getting the most perfect woman on the planet back in my arms and official city scum off my streets."

"You paid the first guy a thousand though," one of the men said. Charlie lowered his gaze to the table then raised them back up, taking a breath.

"$900 to keep the scum off my streets, like I said. The level of importance this has taken on is ridiculous, and I refuse to rest until the problem is solved."

"So who's the scum?" another man asked.

"There's this ragtag group of shits downtown…what are they, street fighters or something? One of their best is this Dean Ambrose, and he's got his little buddy, Windham Ellis. They used to frequent Erickson's bar on the east side, but now you can't be assed to find them there. I know for a fact they still go to that center downtown where the rest of them meet though, so it shouldn't be too hard to find them." He tapped his fingers on the glass, pursing his lips at the next thought. "The main focus is that Dean Ambrose."

"You just said that…"

"No." Charlie held a finger up at the man on his left, a tan-skinned brute with long black hair and a chiseled face. "Ambrose is the best fighter out of all those guys, yes. But I want him taken down because he has Scarlett."

"So may I ask something, while we're on the topic of this Scarlett?" The first man who spoke up from before, a Rick B, raised his finger and then lowered it. Charlie simply turned his head to him. "What's the deal with her? Like…why do you want her back to the point where you wanna kill off all these knucklers in favor of her? She in danger?"

"Yes she is," Charlie responded quickly with an air of confidence growing. "Not only do I simply want her back, but she does not need to be with that guy. He's not just scum because he looks homely and he scraps for money like a dog. He escaped jail time in his hometown in Cincinnati and he thinks by channeling his anger towards something controlled and with a payroll, it'll keep him out of trouble. Little does he know that the operation is illegal. Little does he know as well that I can just as easily report his ass to the police back in Ohio and have him taken out of this city. With that kind of threat, I know good and well he'll try to snatch up my girl and take her out of here to God-knows-where, and I can't afford to let that happen. The sooner we get rid of him and the rest of the motley crew, the safer Scarlett will be and the safer this city will be. It'll do my father a favor."

"But your father's this rich hot-shot; doesn't he know the whole police force…?"

"Their attention is on those series of murders from last week."

Rick B rolled his eyes. "So you think their attention _isn't_ gonna be focused on a bunch of dudes murdered in the downtown gym if we go through with your plan?"

"You've already started to take them out, one-by-one," Charlie started to yell, slapping his hand on the glass. "If you continue that method, they'll each leave and never help that piece of shit or his friend thus eliminating any possibility of any of you or me getting caught! I'm paying you to also think, might I add…"

"I'd like to know what the bad shit he did in Cincinnati was though, so I know what we're up against," the chiseled face spoke up again calmly, waiting for Charlie to regain his composure. The fearless leader did and began.

* * *

_Current day…_

After Scarlett left for home, Dean had arrived at the diner a couple of blocks down the street to meet Windham. It was their usual meeting place, although they'd meet much earlier in the morning. Dean paid it no mind when he took a seat opposite of his confidant, resting his forearms on the table while looking at the menu waiting on his plate.

"I gotta tell you some stuff, man," Windham muttered, putting his own menu down as the waitress approached the table.

"Can I get you gentlemen something to drink?"

Dean opened his mouth, but Windham was quick to order. "Two coffees, please."

The waitress turned and walked away as Dean looked at Windham, chuckling in surprise before returning to his menu.

"I'm tryin' to make this as quick as possible. This ain't good news."

"Scarlett said you had something serious to tell me anyways," Dean said as he glossed over the breakfast dishes, his eyes scaling up and down the long page before looking up at his friend. "Let's hear it."

Windham hesitated for a moment, rolling back his lower lip before finally finding the courage to speak. "…Jake was attacked a few nights ago, man." Dean just stared at Windham's face. "By some punk that I only assume is workin' for that Charlie character y'all keep getting involved with. The dude told Jake to send you a message about Scarlett. I don't know what the message is, but I got the rest of the information from Jake himself and he don't know either."

Dean rubbed the back of his neck slowly, looking down at the table as the waitress returned with two white mugs of coffee. "Are we ready to order this morning?"

"I'm just having coffee," Dean replied, barely making eye contact with her.

"I'll take one of them omelettes full of grilled onions and peppers, with some hash browns and bacon." Windham smiled up at her, taking Dean's menu and piling it with his to hand to the waitress. After she took the items and walked away, he grabbed the sugar shaker and started pouring some into his cup. "You don't want one of your lumberjack breakfasts?"

"How are you so calm about this?" Dean looked up at him, wrapping his hands around the mug. "Jake was fuckin' attacked, we don't even know who did it, Scarlett's got everything to do with this…"

"Listen, I care about Scarlett bein' safe, and I want her and you to be happy – but none of this happened before you fell in love with her."

"So what, you're saying this is _my_ fault?"

"I'm sayin' this shit would've been avoided if her ex-boyfriend wasn't so fixated on roughin' you up."

"But that's not my problem if he's some jealous tool." Dean grabbed a small plastic cup of half and half and tore open its label, looking down at the steaming coffee. "That's all this is about. Those few months ago when Scarlett stopped talking to me, she was saying how Charlie was trying to kill me, and I only assumed it was because he just was mad I busted him up. Now that he's getting all this information out there like where I work and where to find me, I feel like he knows even more."

"Even more what?"

Dean put his spoon in the mug and slowly stirred his coffee, watching it knead one giant wave behind the spoon. His heart started to race just remembering the fact that he should've told Windham years ago, but it just wasn't something he felt worth telling him. Now, however, seemed like the best opportunity.

"…I didn't exactly move from Cincinnati to down here." He looked up at Windham, who studied his eyes with widened eyes of constant anxiety. "I beat the shit out of this guy. Gave him some bruises on his face, stabbed him in the back with a pocketknife – all because he talked shit about my mom to my face after I beat him in a card game and I took $400. He tried to come at me, but I fought back, and I almost killed him because of it. So I was faced with jail time, and I just didn't wanna be that guy in jail for what I thought was no reason, so I ran. Ran all the way down here, changed my name and my hair a bit, and here I am. I wanted to learn how to fight properly and just get myself together instead of running wild in the streets trying to kill everybody who took from me, so that's how I ended up at the training center. Annnd that's where we are now." He tapped his spoon against the edge of the mug, placed it on the white napkin and raised the mug to his lips.

Windham couldn't even get the words out to describe what he was thinking at that moment. Dean put the mug down after taking a large sip and looked down at the table, not bothering to try to decipher his friend's visual response. He already knew what the response would be, and he regretted every minute of telling the truth at that point.

"So you changed your name?" Dean nodded slowly, lowering his head but raising his eyes at him. "What was it before?"

"Jon Moxley."

"…That was _you_?!" Windham sat back in his chair in disbelief as Dean smirked, moving his eyes back to his coffee. "Man, I remember that name from the news; some guy got-"

"Pricked repeatedly in the head with a fork in a back alley, yeah. That was me." Windham chuckled, rubbing his chin.

"Why didn't you tell me this before? Maybe if I had known I was gonna be roomin' with a potential killer I wouldn't be tryin' to beat up some preppy shit from the west side." The waitress placed his breakfast on the table and walked away – but Windham lost nearly all of his appetite after that news.

"I don't know," Dean shrugged, playing with the mug handle. "I think it's kinda fun…"

"Kinda fun?!" He was trying to cut at his omelette but stopped, holding up his knife and fork. "That just confirmed this shit ain't no joke then."

"I wouldn't joke about this." Dean lifted his head and looked at Windham continuing to dig into his food. He rubbed his nose with his thumb, keeping his other hand beside his mug. "The only mistake I made was that I didn't kill the guy-"

"Okay, whoa," Windham said, his mouth full of food as he held his hand up while holding his fork. "I ain't never said that you made any mistakes and I _certainly_ didn't ask about all that…"

"I'm just saying."

"Spoken like a true killer." Dean couldn't help but laugh to himself as he looked away. Windham took another bite and let it digest, staring across the table at this person he thought he knew but was apparently some kind of runaway convict. What was he supposed to do with that? "What I don't get is: why would someone talkin' about ya mama warrant them gettin' stabbed?"

Dean shrugged again, keeping his eyes on the rest of the diner while Windham scoffed.

"Nah; you know the answer…"

"I've always protected my mom."

"I know you have; you only talk about her every damn time you get in a big fight with somebody."

"It's always been her and me. When people tried to talk shit about me, I dealt with it – but talking shit about my own mom, dude? That ain't gonna fly with me. It might sound drastic to you, but for me, if you're gonna bring up my personal life over some fucking money you better be prepared to get your ass kicked for it."

Windham nodded, lifting his mug of coffee while Dean tapped his fingers against the table. "So that's why you all protective over Scarlett now…"

"Besides the obvious fact that I love her? Sure."

"I mean, you don't wanna see another one of your ladies gettin' abused when they ain't done a thing, right?" Dean didn't say a word, but he didn't have to. Windham didn't need an answer about that question. What he did need, though, was a plan.

They sat in silence as Windham continued to eat and Dean continued to drink his coffee. After a while, the plate was cleared and the mugs were empty, leaving the two men to sit back in their seats, still not making eye contact and still keeping the silence. It was only until Windham cleared his throat that Dean finally looked up at him, stretching his arms over the table.

"So what you think we should do?" Windham asked, looking at Dean in return.

"Way I see it, we have two options: 1) we can take my original route and get Scarlett – and I guess Olivia – and get the hell out of town; or 2) we can kick that piece of shit's ass along with his little posse."

"One of them sounds easier and less expensive than the other, and you know how cheap I am…" Dean chuckled. "Besides, it's time you stop runnin' from these things and solve shit. And if I gotta be there to carry your ass, I'll do it, whether you're a killer or not, man."

In all their three years of knowing each other, Dean's never seen or heard Windham as confident and supportive as he was right then and there. It gave him a feeling of worthy security – but more importantly it gave him a sense of power with a purpose. That purpose wouldn't just be devoted to protecting Scarlett and himself, but also Windham, also the boys downtown, and everything Dean stood for. Nearly killing some guy over a card game might not've been the best choice, but eliminating the one guy who's more of a menace to society than some city outcast excommunicated from Ohio?

It was definitely the best choice.

And as Dean and Windham shook hands across the table with smirks on their faces, he just couldn't wait to follow through with it.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** :)


	19. Chapter 19

Two days had passed without a hint of trouble. Dean's co-worker who was attacked a week ago stayed home to nurse his injuries, but mainly there were no more violent disturbances. But what Dean had told Scarlett that Friday night was still stuck on her mind, and she had no idea how to deal with it. She spent Saturday and Sunday with him without bringing it up, but it didn't mean she didn't think about it when he wasn't focusing on her. When he picked up a knife to cut his steak, she couldn't help but stare at him in wild-eyed suspense as he cut into the meat like a surgeon. Scarlett had no idea what she was doing being with a runaway con from Cincinnati, but she hoped that it'd be easier on her as time went on. She was, after all, head over heels for him – especially when she found out he fought for a living. There was nothing more attractive to her than a man who not only welcomed fights but knew how to defend himself as well – as opposed to verbally taunting or lightly pushing someone like _some ex-boyfriends_ used to do.

Scarlett painted a generous coat of clear lip gloss to her lips, carefully making a smooth layer then rubbing both lips together. She puckered them to her reflection in the bathroom mirror before curling them into a smile, checking the corners for any excess gloss.

She was satisfied with the rest of the makeup she applied, so she closed her small bottle of gloss and walked back into her bedroom to complete her look. Dean promised her a date to someplace she hadn't been before, and it involved dressing "nicely again." That could very well just be code for "I have no idea how you wanna dress, so wear whatever," but she wanted to believe that he cared a lot about how she looked. Just so she knew that her dressing up wouldn't be in vain.

She decided on a white sweater over a white tank top, dark wash jeans, and flats, keeping her hair down and parted on the side a bit so more hair draped over her left shoulder, and it created a small bump – just as she liked it. She felt beautiful – for the past few months in fact she's felt more beautiful than ever before. She felt this way when she was first with Charlie, but as the years went by, she lost interest in dressing up and trying to feel better about herself. She couldn't even bring herself to feel better and dress up for Charlie; she just hated everything about herself. These days, it's been nothing but self-appreciation and dressing up the way she wanted to – and also for a guy who really didn't care how she looked. He cared about her being with him, and that was something she'd take a while to get used to.

But she didn't mind it.

She grabbed her handbag stuffed with her necessities, ready to head out when she heard a knock at the door. Scarlett beamed, knowing just who the guest was, as she jogged out of her bedroom and to the front door. She swung the door open, ready to greet her date with the perfect hello – but it was Windham.

"Oh, don't lose your smile because of me now," he groaned, mocking sadness as she sighed and dropped her shoulders.

"Hi Windham," she smiled, holding her arms out. He gave her a hug, patting her on the back a couple of times before releasing her and glancing at her outfit in approval. "Is it nice enough?"

"I ain't no fashion expert," he shrugged with some sass. "Ya look nice though. I'd take you to dinner and wouldn't be embarrassed to be seen with ya." She laughed as he rested his hands in his pockets, enjoying the sight of her so happy, the kind of happiness his best friend only downright gushed over in conversation. But now that he was seeing it for himself, it was quite the sight to behold.

"So where's my boyfriend?"

Windham raised an eyebrow at her as she clutched the long handles of her black handbag. "Your what?"

"…My…boyfriend…?"

"Oh, _Dean_," he exhaled in relief, looking away for moment. "Yeah, he said he was gonna be late for your date. Got caught up at work, so he asked me to pick you up and take you downtown so y'all can meet and abandon me."

"We won't abandon you, silly," she said, shaking her head. "We'll just…let you sit in the way back of wherever we're going."

"Well I refuse to be a third wheel anyways, so that's fine with me."

* * *

The parking was nearly useless on a Monday evening around the center where the men worked, so Windham ended up parking a couple of blocks away. This minor complication allowed he and Scarlett the opportunity to chat as they strolled down the block side-by-side, Scarlett crossing her arms over her chest as Windham kept his hands in his pockets like always.

"Sooo what do you think about what he told you?" Scarlett asked, turning her head to her walking companion. He returned her look with surprise, half amazed that she decided to speak and half struggling to figure out whom she was talking about. But he understood and smirked, looking ahead of him.

"He scared the shit out of me," he chuckled as Scarlett smiled, looking down briefly. "But the thing is, I keep goin' back to when I first met him, and how calm he was, like he ain't had a care in the world. That's the Dean I know…or whatever his name is. It was just hard to believe he was tellin' me somethin' like that and I was supposed to take him serious. But man…when you look in them eyes of his when he's tellin' you that kinda stuff…it's somethin' else…"

"Yeah." Scarlett looked into the distance, remembering Dean's eyes when they both sat on his bed that Friday night. He dropped a folded piece of paper out of his pocket and she found it on the floor coming back from the kitchen. She showed the paper to him, and he started reaching to take it back, but she played keep-away with him until he grabbed a hold of her and had her straddling him on his bed while she kept the paper held up beside her head. He said, "Better give that back to me," with the most playful of smiles and pouted lips of mock threat, and she thought it was harmless replying, "Or else what? You're gonna kill me?" And she watched the playfulness and the joy disappear from his eyes, and his body melt into a puddle of regret and almost guilt as he proceeded to tell her everything.

But what she didn't expect was to see him so defeated, so emotionally pulled apart when she didn't even do anything – or _did_ she do something in instigating the response he gave her? He'd never tell her, and sometimes she hated how selective he was with information like that, but she didn't pay it much attention at that point. When he was finished he lay on his back staring at the white ceiling, hand on his chest as he swallowed hard and blinked harder, wanting to say something, but she placed her hand on top of his and stopped him from saying too much.

"I'm kinda glad he told you first," Windham interrupted her thoughts when they stopped at the traffic light. "If he just told me, I feel like it would've been a worse experience for him since I'm…ya know, not the one he's in love with." He looked into the street as Scarlett turned to him, nodding. "At least I hope I'm not." She rolled her eyes and chuckled as the light switched to green.

They reached the alley way beside the center, and Windham ensured Scarlett was standing just behind the spotlight of a street light sitting against the brick wall. "I'm gonna go inside and check where he's at. It's pretty rough in there, so it's best you stay out here."

"Are you sure?"

"I know you some big tough gal but the Southern gentleman in me is sayin' 'don't let her in,'" he said, holding his hands up in front of her. "You're good out here."

She nodded and watched him walk inside while she leaned against the wall, looking out into the street.

Scarlett was taking a moment to think over just where Dean would be taking her when she was snatched by the arm and pulled deeper into the alley way and then thrown against the wall. The person who grabbed her slapped a hand against the brick wall, essentially trapping her when she turned her head to escape. The person leaned in closer to her face, and the light that shone just far enough to where the two were standing revealed a bit of the familiar thin lips, pointy nose, hazel eyes – all of which belonged to Charlie.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Scarlett tried to walk in the opposite direction but he slammed his other hand against the wall to block her. She sighed in defeat and stood against the wall, holding her bag with both hands while refusing eye contact.

"I knew I'd find you here…"

"That's great; now will you let me go, please?"

"Not until you hear me out for just one second."

"No!" Scarlett pushed his arm away with her hand, starting to walk away, but he snatched her by that same wrist and pulled her back to him. He kept his grip tight as she grew shocked by his force, looking at his hand then his face.

"You need to get rid of that guy. Maybe we're not getting back together, but I still care about your safety; therefore it's in your best interest to get away from him. I found out some information about him that could mean he-"

"He's faced with jail time in Ohio, but he's a knuckler here in Florida instead? Yeah I heard that too." She tried to pull her arm free, but he held onto it, snarling at her attitude.

"And you think there's nothing wrong with that and that you're safe?"

"I'm safer with him than I am with you."

"Bullshit, Scarlett!" He quickly released her wrist but pinned her shoulders immediately after to the wall. His intimidating strength caused her to drop her bag as her breath shortened and her eyes filled with panic. "Listen to me, and I'm only gonna tell you this once: he's trouble. Not just for you, but for everyone in this entire city…"

"Charlie, enough-"

"SHUT UP!" She stared into his eyes, angry eyes glowing with a kind of frustration that she never saw before in her life. She felt his palms press into her collarbones like he was trying to push her into the wall, and she grimaced at the pain. "I'm doing everything in my power to get rid of him, so I suggest you stop defending him. I want you back, but if you're gonna get in my way, then I have no issue with hurting you worse than what you're feeling now."

She didn't know what to do. She was afraid to call for help, and she didn't know how he'd respond if she tried to fight him off. The amount of helplessness in that moment was enough to force hot tears down her cheeks as she fought off lip quivering by gritting her teeth. She shut her eyes, hoping this was all a dream and he'd disappear, but when she opened them, he was still standing there, still pressing her shoulders to the wall, and still looking enraged.

"Let me go, Charlie…" she managed to say in a shaky voice, looking away. He slowly loosened his hold on her and studied the rest of her shivering body. She exhaled loudly and dropped her shoulders, feeling close to vomiting before she was grabbed by the sides of her face and she found her lips smashed against his. She slapped his arm wildly, trying to get him off her while turning her head away, but he rubbed his hands against her breasts, pressing down against them to incite more pain to keep her from moving. He ripped her sweater open and attempted to return his hands to her chest, but she was quick enough to fight his hands away as he kept pressing his lips to her cheek and her neck.

"Get off me!" she cried out, but her plea fell on deaf ears when he moved his hands to the zipper of her jeans. She pushed his face away then his torso, using balled-up fists to hit him and hoping that it would keep him back. Instead, he gripped her throat and pushed her head against the wall, tightening his grip as he listened to her struggle for air.

Just when it appeared that he'd finally unzip her jeans and continue his disturbing plan, he heard Windham come out from the training center, speaking loudly to a near-by Scarlett: "He said he's gon be about 30 minutes, so maybe we should…"

He stopped talking when he saw Scarlett being held up by Charlie, and he immediately ran into the alley way after him. Charlie, however, released his object of malcontent before Windham could catch him and walked backward, pointing back at his larger target.

"That's a warning. _Y'all_ are next." And he turned around and ran off.

Windham stopped where Scarlett had fallen to the dirty gravel, she gasping for air while clutching at her throat.

"My God…" was all Windham could say when he looked at her, and he gently helped her up to take her back to his car.

* * *

Dean had received a phone call from Windham saying that he and Scarlett went back to Dean's place to wait. What Windham didn't tell his buddy, however, was the situation at hand; hence, as Dean casually shut his apartment door behind him and swung his keys over his finger, he had no idea why Windham was pacing his living room floor, and why Scarlett looked disheveled and had her head against the back of his couch.

"Hey…" He greeted cautiously, taking off his jacket. Windham stopped pacing and looked up at Dean, a look of grave concern painted on his face. Scarlett said nothing.

The central figure to all things negative these days walked into the living room, draping his jacket over his favorite chair and squatting down in front of a stretched out Scarlett, who had tear stains on her cheeks and her sweater barely wrapped around her with its buttons missing. He gently took her hand that rested on her thigh – it shook so much that it scared him pale.

"What the hell happened?!" He rubbed his thumb on the back of her hand and used the other to reach out to pet back some of her hair. But as he leaned in closer to her, she turned away, shaking her head slowly as her lips quivered and she shut her eyes.

"That…that son of a bitch Charlie attacked her, man," Windham sighed, looking away. Dean turned to him, his confusion turning into sudden anger. "I went in to ask you that stuff…I was stupid enough to tell her to stay outside for some reason…I came out and I saw him chokin' her…"

Dean released her hand and stood up, turning his body fully to Windham. "You left her outside?"

"I thought it was safer for her out there since y'all were doin' your thing all over the center. Where the hell would she have gone if she went inside?" Dean went to answer that but instead took a breath and lowered his gaze.

"Why the hell was he there?" he asked in an eerily low voice.

"I don't know; ask _him_!" Dean frowned up and felt his stubby fingernails faintly dig into the flesh of his palms as he kept his arms at his sides. Without looking at anyone else in the room, he stormed into his bedroom, keeping his head down and his breathing audible through gritted teeth.

He didn't know what to do. He paced by his bed, releasing his fists and running a hand through his hair frantically before stopping and setting his sights on the ceramic lamp sitting on his end table. He slapped it off the table, listening to its thud as it hit the carpet and refused to break. He kicked the bottom of his bed, slamming his fists repeatedly on the mattress and blankets before letting out a combination of a growl and a yell. When he grew tired of pounding his fists on something soft, he turned to the mirror on the door of his closet, recognizing the image of a distressed, exhausted man looking right back at him, a man who wasn't there to help the love of his life when she needed him the most. A man who should be paying more attention and not depending on others to take care of his responsibilities. A broken man.

He wanted to fix that image. He walked up to the mirror, staring into his reflection, into his blue eyes burning with rage before slamming his left fist into the glass, the same glass cutting into his hand as he continued until pieces fell on the floor by his feet. When he saw the wooden base of the door, he walked backward until he hit the edge of his bed then sat down, his legs stretched out in front of him and his hands lifelessly in his lap.

Someone – no, not just someone, but Charlie – touched Scarlett. Touched _his_ Scarlett. This person "attacked" her – it was one thing to have emotionally ruined her, but Charlie physically put his hands on her. Dean didn't even want to know the details in terms of what exactly happened; he just replayed over and over the shakiness of Scarlett's hand and her not wanting to be touched, and it was enough to send him over the edge. He wouldn't even bring himself to think of the fact that he could've stepped outside and stopped it…

Dean started panting out of the adrenaline unleashing but trying to reduce it. He looked at his bloodied hand and threw his head back against the mattress, shutting his eyes and opening them while fighting off the stinging of oncoming tears. He wanted to know why, he _needed_ to know why this was happening, why someone felt the need to violate a person as perfect and good-natured as Scarlett, a woman who didn't do anything to anyone other than love them. And this was the thanks she got for her efforts.

He tightened his lips as he pounded a fist against the floor, ignoring a quiet Scarlett walking gingerly into the room with her arms barely folded across her chest. When he stopped hitting the floor, he exhaled frantically, taking deep breaths through the mouth before looking up at her. His eyes filled with frustration and a grief he wasn't familiar with, he started shaking his head at her while she kneeled beside him.

"I'll kill him…" he breathed, looking down in front of him. She didn't say a word; rather, she wrapped her arms around him and cradled his head to her chest, resting her chin on top of his head. He just lay there in her arms, still looking down, with his bloody hand in a claw shape. "I'll fuckin' kill him, Scarlett. I swear to God…" He shut his eyes, feeling her shakiness match his in a way – but she started to calm down and her breathing was easing up.

"I'm okay," she whispered, looking for some kind of comfort to provide him. No doubt she was more upset than he was, but she knew if she continued to show it, he'd never calm down and he'd do a lot worse than just cutting his hand on shards of glass. She kissed the top of his head and combed her hand through his hair, keeping him close. "I'll be fine…"

"No." He lifted his head up, staring at her with cold, blue eyes. "No; he's not fucking getting away with this. I'm not gonna sit here and let him do this to you, ruin your life like this. I'm fucking done with him. You stay out of sight, and I'll take care of this, okay?" She dropped her arms into her lap as he leaned against the bed and closed his eyes again.

"But Dean, I-"

"Scarlett, please." He turned his face to her, giving her a long look filled with desperation as she closed her mouth. "I'm not gonna see you like this again, baby. I'm not gonna let you out of my sight. I love you too fucking much to come home to see you just…like _this_. To _allow_ this kind of shit to happen to you."

"But you can't be there to protect me all the time," she said, running a hand along the side of his face. "I don't want you to worry-"

"Fucking stop it." He turned away from her, slapping the back of his bloody hand against his thigh. "He's after me, and he's obviously gonna stop at nothing, which means putting you in more danger than anything. Do _not_ put your pride in this when you're outnumbered and outmatched. Let…me…take care of this." He looked at her again, his jaw clenching while she sighed helplessly. But whose pride was really getting in the way here? She just wanted to prevent any more violence and keep him out of trouble. Charlie could just be reported to the police; it was no big deal. If she let Dean kill him or inflict any kind of physical harm, this night might be the last time she'd see him. How would he avoid getting caught if he hurt Charlie? How would Windham avoid getting caught? These were things that those two refused to think about, but they festered on Scarlett's mind each time it was brought up.

She just wanted peace, and she'd do anything in her power to get it. But if he was going to protect her in any way, she'd _have_ to let him do whatever he wanted.

"Okay," she whispered, looking at him, "take care of it." She swallowed hard and held back her tears as he nodded, looking at his bloody hand. "I just don't want this to be the last time I ever see you. Will you promise me that it won't be?"

He looked up at the pile of glass at the bottom of the closet door, holding his injured hand up, before slowly catching her fearful eyes with his…equally fearful ones. She never thought she'd see the day.

"…I can't promise you that."

And because of that, she didn't want to have to see it.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** tfw nikki and i had similar attack-the-damsel plots jfccc but hers was a rape while mine was just charlie being a complete jackass. i was getting mad while writing the whole scene lmao

I HATE THAT GUY

anyways i know it's been a while since an update so i figured 3000+ words would be ok/would satiate. if it doesn't then oops luv me anyways. I FEEL SO BAD FOR DEAN MY CREY. obviously i'm emotionally attached to my story so if you don't like it now then i hate chu. anyways bye.


	20. Chapter 20

He lay in bed with his hand wrapped in a white bandage. Windham had left without saying a word to him. Scarlett was in the bathroom. Everything was moving too quickly, and he felt like he was going to vomit. He had no idea how within an hour and a half his life would change – or maybe that was just him being overdramatic. Scarlett was okay, he was okay, and Windham was okay…everything was still in place that needed to be. But something about how the events went down festered on his mind, and he felt as though life wouldn't be the same after this evening. A change needed to happen, and he wanted to see it soon. He probably couldn't look past that thought.

Scarlett walked out of the bathroom, wrapping her sweater tightly against her as she folded her arms over her chest to seal it. All of her hair resting on her left shoulder, she bit on her lower lip, avoiding eye contact with a waiting Dean. She stood at the end of the bed, staring at the comforter and hearing shuffling coming from the opposite side of the bed. Before she could look up, he was standing in front of her, petting back some of the blonde hair that was falling in front of her face. He kept his hand on her cheek, rubbing his thumb along the cheekbone as he gazed into her eyes. She returned his gaze but didn't touch him. He tilted his head to get a better view of her neck: bruised with light maroon-colored marks just under the chin. He ran his fingertips down her cheek until he reached just where Charlie's own fingertips had dug into her neck, and she moved her head back, wincing.

"Do you wanna stay here the night?"

"I wanna ask you something first," she replied, looking at him with a blank expression. He wrinkled his brow at her, a bit surprised at the reply but nevertheless taking a seat on the edge of his bed, waiting for the question. "Why didn't you tell me everything about you earlier?"

"And expect you to stay afterward?"

"But you don't know how I'd react, Dean…" She dropped her hands at her sides, exhaling with a huge weight of frustration pressing on her shoulders. "None of this would've happened…"

"If I had just told you everything? Yeah, that's true. You could've very well run off and never seen me again, just would've stayed tormented and tried to get back together with Charlie…"

"That's not fair-"

"Life's not fucking fair, Scarlett, as you can see. I get the impression you're trying to blame him attacking you on me and honestly, _that's_ not very fair either, now is it?" She looked away, refusing to respond and fighting back tears. He closed his mouth and looked toward the floor, shaking his head and regretting everything he said if it meant keeping her from crying. He had about enough of that for one night.

He took her right hand in his and gently pulled her to him, allowing her to position herself to sit on his lap. She didn't budge once she got comfortable, keeping her hands in her lap and looking ahead of her. "I just wish you were there. You should've seen the look in his eyes when he grabbed me. He was a completely different person…"

Dean only kissed her cheek, and she pushed some of her hair behind her ear.

"I don't understand why he'd even do that to me."

"Because he knows you don't belong to him anymore whatsoever," he answered while looking at her soft hair and the light blush on her cheekbones, "and it kills him to know that someone else is doing for you what he couldn't even dream of doing. So instead of taking it out on the person he's trying to compete against, someone who'll actually kick his ass all over this city, he's taking it out on someone he knows will take it and deal with it." He shrugged as she scoffed, turning to him finally.

"I'm not gonna take this and deal with it." He smirked, pursing his lips to keep his laughter in which irritated her as she rolled her eyes. "I mean it! If he thinks he's just gonna try to choke me and get away with it or whatever, he's got another thing coming to him…"

"Eeeeasy, tiger," he chuckled as he patted her on the thigh. "I told you: I'm gonna take care of this."

"I don't want you to," she retorted, "at least not without me." He sighed, turning away for a moment as she put her hands on his chest towards his collarbones, trying to physically coax him into the thought as she leaned closer to his face. "I gave it some thought, and I need to settle things with him myself." He turned back to her, looking in her fiery green eyes as she ran her hands up onto his shoulders. "I love you for protecting me, Dean, but you can't just take care of all this for me and expect me to live with that."

"I'm just as excited about taking this shithead down as you are, but listen to me…"

"No, _you_ listen to _me_." She got off his lap, still maintaining that closeness to his face while he tried to lean back with wide eyes. "He took two years off my life, broke up with me, and then spent a good chunk of a month trying to get me back, calling me a bitch and a tease and a whore. I did everything I could for him, but he thought because he had a lot of money he could do and say anything to me and I'd take it. He thinks now that he can hurt me and get away with it. You always called me this 'big girl,' yet you think you're doing me this favor in not letting me take care of this. You have to trust me."

"I do trust you…"

"Do you really?"

"And I know what I said about you before – hell you're convincing me enough now to let me watch you take care of business – but it's not _just_ about you. It doesn't matter who made the decision to do what; I'd end up as his enemy regardless of me being with you because he hates people like me. People who don't look like they're suited for the finer things or who don't deserve to live in this city, 'his' city. I know what he's about. You think I don't because _you_ dated him, but I know. He's no different than anyone I've known in my life who's tried to take me out."

"I just don't want you to do this alone." She cupped the side of his face.

"I won't be alone; I got Windham."

"I mean without me." He sighed, looking down before scooting further onto the bed until he reached his pillows. Scarlett watched him, rubbing on her collarbone. "Dean…"

"I'll think about it." She shook her head, putting her hands on her hips.

"There's no time to think about this; it has to be done…"

"I think it's best that you just come to bed now and let me worry about this, and I'll see if I want you to help or not tomorrow."

"And why does this get to be _your _decision?"

"I'm gonna talk to Windham about it tomorrow too."

"Oh really? After his decision-making tonight you're still gonna trust him?" He couldn't believe what he just heard.

"What the hell was that for?"

She dropped her arms at her sides, defeated as she rubbed her forehead. She was so pent-up with frustration that she didn't even want this conversation; she just wanted to do whatever needed to be done now. She was tired of it all: tired of being with Dean and knowing that he was Charlie's target, knowing that Charlie himself would stop at nothing to get what he wanted, and knowing that she couldn't just live in peace anymore until Charlie was gone. She never felt this kind of rage before, this desire to kill. It disgusted her to her core; consequently, she felt no control over anything that was coming out of her mouth. She started to think that maybe he was right in keeping her out of harm's way.

Dean, in turn, didn't know what to do with her as she stood there. He already felt bad when Windham left without a formal apology from him, but to hear this from Scarlett of all people... But he tried his best not to hold it against her as he rubbed his taped wrist, removing the shock from his face.

"See? This is why I have to do this with Windham. This isn't like you. You're a sweetheart; you don't act this way."

"I'm not a…" She stopped herself, looking at his confused expression. "I don't know what I am anymore." She started walking around the bed, shaking her head slowly. "I'm a sweetheart, I'm weak, I'm a woman, I'm Ann Darrow, I'm Hester Prynne without the baby…" She stopped, combing both of her hands through her hair. "Why can't I be Scarlett, you know? Why can't I be the Scarlett that I was before, that didn't take shit and just took care of herself?"

"Because that Scarlett probably got help and let herself get help."

"But I don't need help…!" She laughed a little at the fact that this wasn't getting through to someone whom she thought understood her more than anyone right now. "I need my life back." She looked into his pitying eyes. "And I need you in it."

"If you let me help you, I can be."

She climbed onto the bed, positioning herself to sit on the bare heels of her feet as he pushed back some of his hair. He looked at her ruined sweater, then back into her eyes which glittered for the first time that night. "So are you saying I can come with you then?"

He motioned with his finger for her to come closer, and as she leaned down toward him, he pushed her sweater off her shoulders. She grew eager as he ran his fingers along her arms to push the sweater down, and she finished the job by yanking it off and throwing it across the room. She hovered over his body with her own, gazing into his eyes and glancing at his lips. His eyes followed hers on her face, and he used his taped hand to push back some of her hair.

"If you can promise me you'll end up okay," he said in a low voice, "then yes you can."

"You know I can't promise you that."

"Scarlett…"

"Just like you can't promise me this won't be the last time I see you. I'm just gonna do what I feel is right."

"But what's right is staying back and le-" Scarlett pressed her lips to his before he could finish his sentence, and she rubbed her thumb against his cheek while her other fingertips rubbed the side of his neck. When she released her kiss, she looked in his eyes with confidence. He seemed calm but irritated. "That's not gonna work on me."

"No?" She smiled for the first time that night, a full-hearted smile that kicked his irritation and worry to the side as he shook his head in reply to her. She kissed him again, this time moving to straddle over him and using both hands to cup his face. His hands moved up her back, pushing under her tank top and over her lace bra.

As they were about to continue, they were interrupted by a loud banging on the door – much more powerful than expected out of a regular visitor. Scarlett immediately removed herself from Dean and turned back, looking out past the bedroom door as he did the same. The banging stopped but then repeated again, and he climbed off the bed as she did the same.

"Stay quiet," he whispered, walking out of the room and keeping his hand out behind him. Scarlett followed behind but stopped at the door and wrapped her hand around the frame. She watched as he crept to the door, listening to the banging before it stopped suddenly. He stopped walking right after and waited a few seconds, looking under the apartment door at the light from the hallway. A large shadow cast under the door – someone was still outside. Dean looked around for a moment for weapons but found none, and instead balled his fist up and approached the door with an extended arm. Scarlett stared wide-eyed, her heart racing as he turned the door knob and yanked the door open.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** Oops left it there :) WHO WAS DOOR?!


	21. Chapter 21

"This bastard almost took me down but luckily I got 'im."

Windham released the hold he had around the guy's neck and kicked him in the backside, pushing him knee-first to Dean's apartment floor. The stringy blond-haired culprit, wearing a navy blue dress shirt and jeans with running shoes, clutched at his face as he crawled on the carpeted floor. Dean wrinkled his brow as he watched the man roll onto his back, cough, and spit out a bit of blood with a tooth.

Windham followed soon after with a swollen left eye and bloody bottom lip, and he placed a hand over his left shoulder while his arm fell limp. Dean shut the door behind him and walked up to the man lying on the ground. Beneath the busted lip with a stream of blood across his cheek and his cut eyebrow, he recognized the face immediately: Rick, or Ricky, Benson, a scrapper at the same gym Dean and Windham worked at.

"You don't recognize him?" Dean asked, turning back to Windham who propped himself against the white wall while clutching his shoulder. He shook his head no, and Dean scoffed in disbelief. "It's Ricky, man."

"Ricky B…?" Windham whispered, looking at the blond.

"What the hell are you doing?" Dean stood over Rick, resting his hands over his knees. Rick coughed again, holding his jaw and turning his brown, lifeless eyes to the 6'4" frame hovering over his face.

"Getting paid…" he managed to get out. Dean straightened up, sighing to himself as his eyes moved to in front of him, where Scarlett still stood at the door frame. She was staring down at Rick with her hand in a loose fist over her mouth, trying her hardest not to appear afraid or shocked. But her deep breathing was making it all the more obvious that she was anxious about this guy's presence and his affiliation with Dean and Windham – not to mention his affiliation with Charlie.

"He said there are about three other guys who were also paid to take you out, and they were gonna do it tonight if Scarlett and I hadn't shown up here first," Windham continued for Rick, walking closer to the scene as he held his limp wrist, "and ruined everything. All with Charlie, all want you dead, man."

"Why do they want Dean dead?" Scarlett piped in, walking into the living room while keeping her arms folded across her chest.

Dean raised a hand up toward her as she stopped mere inches away from Rick's body. "Scarlett, I think you sho-"

"No," she retorted with bright eyes filled with a rush of adrenaline. He dropped his hand at his side and squatted down beside Rick, looking down at the floor below him. She returned her attention to the suspect. "Why are you trying to kill Dean?"

"I'm not trying to kill anybody," Rick struggled as he sat up, clutching at his jaw. "I was paid a certain amount for doing Charlie's dirty work, which was to track Dean down and feed Charlie information as I got it. I did that; now I'm supposed to bring him back to Charlie's place for whatever he wants to do with him."

"But _why_…?" Windham stood at Rick's feet.

"Because, man! I'm not gonna be paid in shit for having to work with a con!" He turned to Dean with his expression becoming flushed with rage. "You and I were never friends because I always knew something was up with you. Now I come to find out that you were some fuckin' criminal in Ohio and you ran off like the bitch you are just to hide out. _And you lied about it_. Who fuckin' does that and tries to get away with it, Ambrose? Only a moron like you! A chickenshit moron with mommy issues who thinks finding some flooze like her is gonna make you a better person. What, you think by telling some chick you love her that suddenly you're just gonna drop everything and change your ways? You don't have a past anymore? You got a past, and Charlie's gonna stop at nothing to make sure you face it once he catches you."

Dean waited a moment before saying something, refusing to lift his head up as he pushed himself to stay calm. "So Charlie and his other cronies want me dead, but not you…"

"Because it's not justice if you don't pay for your sins," Rick replied, "and I wanna see you pay. Killing you isn't gonna solve anything other than Charlie's appetite for control – plus he knows that if you're dead he can have Scarlett without worry." She scoffed at the words, looking away as Rick chuckled and turned to her. "And he'll sure as hell get you once he gets rid of this rat bastard."

As she watched Rick adjust his jaw, Scarlett stared at his nonchalance in disgust and glanced at Dean for only a moment. He raised his head and looked directly at her, opening his mouth to say something, but he didn't have to say a word. She knew he was going to try to calm her down or tell her not to worry – she didn't have time for that.

She slapped Rick on the side of his head, and once she heard him respond with an "Ow!" she continued slapping him until he fell over to cover his head, and she moved her attack to his arm and back. Her hands tightened into fists, and she pounded on his arm and shoulder until she felt a strong arm wrap around her waist and yank her up into the air and place her down, away from Rick. When she tried to fight back against the force pulling her away, she looked up and saw Windham standing in front of her, taking her hits with a puffed out chest and straight face. She slowly stopped, studying his expression as her hands slid from his chest to her sides.

"You ain't solvin' nothin' if you keep hittin' him," he said in a stern, low voice, "so sit down somewhere and calm down. Alright?" She looked down, panting and trying to control herself. "I said alright?"

"That bitch can hit me all she wants to, but at the end of the day, she knows what her fate is, and she's lucky he didn't kill her when he had the chance…!"

"Okay." Dean's strong voice increased the tension in the room, and Scarlett took a seat in his chair while Windham took a breath and clutched at his left arm again.

Dean stood up, pressing his clammy hands together as he turned away from Rick and slowly stepped away. He had an eerie air of calmness, but there was still that feeling that at any second his body was going to explode with rage. But he fought it off and stopped walking, pushing his hair back before dropping his hands at his sides and snapping his fingers in an unorganized rhythm.

"So I think it's pretty clear that Charlie is an asshole, a dumbass, and an ass-backwards sociopath. Sounds familiar to me, yet somehow I feel like the sanest person in the world right now. Therefore, that doesn't bode well…for you." He turned back to Rick, who looked up at him with wide brown eyes filled with a kind of fear he clearly wasn't used to. "Way I see it right now, you have two options: one, you can lay here while Windham and kick your sorry ass all over my apartment and leave your worthless body outside for your boy to pick up…" Rick snarled at the thought. "…Or two, we let you go."

"What-!" Windham started, but Dean held his hand up to him.

"We let you go on the condition that you tell us where we can find Charlie…and on the condition that I never see your fuckin' face again around these parts or anywhere else on Earth for that matter. Wherever you end up after this, I don't care; just stay as far away from me as possible…" He walked back up to Rick and squatted down, but this time he was so close that he was able to snatch the offender by his shirt collar and pulled him close. "…Or _I_ will kill you." He stared into Rick's eyes, his cold demeanor making Rick petrified as his entire body was shaking. "What's it gonna be?"

Windham and Scarlett studied the scene as Dean kept his grip on Rick's collar. Rick gulped, blinked once, and did not fight from his position before he opened his mouth, hesitated to find the words, then found them:

"He's got his parents' house in the hills, but he's doing all of his work and living in his beach house at the end of Bay Row."

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Scarlett walked into the bathroom as Dean stood in front of the bathroom sink, looking down at his taped hand. When he heard her voice, he looked up at her but followed her reflection in the mirror as she stood beside him, staring at his own reflection. "I don't know how many times I've said it, but if this is the first time, then I'm gonna keep saying it until this is all resolved."

"Don't," he smirked, looking back down at his hand. "It's gonna get annoying as hell."

"What are you even doing?" Scarlett slid her hand down his forearm and touched the white tape on his hand. "I mean I get every explanation in the book you have for going after this guy, but…why now? And why even bother; can't you just…let it go?"

Dean exhaled through his nose, groaning as he raised his head up and looked at his fatigued face. Scarlett looked at the same face in the mirror, resting her head against his bicep.

"A few months ago I got a call from one of my old friends who asked me why I had run off down here, of all places. I told him about the gym, and he was interested, but I said that I was wanted and I didn't want him coming down here and putting his life in danger for the sake of me. I told him some scumbags didn't want people like he and I down here in 'their city' – but I promised I'd fix it. I found out this perfect girl named Scarlett was loosely affiliated with the leading scumbag and I said to myself and Windham that I'd do whatever it took to fix her situation." His eyes focused on hers in the mirror.

"Didn't plan on falling in love with you, but I'll take it. And it only fuels the fire to know this piece of shit is trying to take you away from me because he thinks I'm resident trash. He can find all the information he can about me and my past life, but I'm here now a completely different person in more ways than one, and I'm not gonna stand back and 'let it go' because he believes he has more power than I do. He's got financial power; I got these." He held up balled fists with white knuckles as he squeezed tightly. "These tools are more powerful than anything he'll ever sign or exchange with someone else. Many people were close to death back in Cincinnati with these; with this guy, it'll be death right in his face. That I'll bother with, using the best weapons I have."

"But what if 'these' aren't enough?"

"Don't worry about that." He watched her roll her eyes. "Look…" He took a small step back and gently ushered Scarlett to stand in front of him, resting his hands on her shoulders. She watched his reflection and felt his skinny but smooth hands run along her skin, climbing up the sides of her neck before putting all of her blonde hair back. She tilted her head slightly so he had room to rest his chin on her shoulder bone – all while looking in her mirrored eyes. It was trance-inducing, staring into those blues that had this immaculate ability to alter between being cold and dead, and lively and warm. As she felt his hands slip around her waist, his eyes grew even more animated under the cheap lights in his bathroom, and an overwhelming rush of safety came over her as her hands rested on top of his. She lifted her head to press against his, and a smile curved on her lips as he slowly blinked.

"I see a warm-hearted, beautiful but feisty little thing in front of me right now – and then there's you," he said, and she slapped one of his hands while he chuckled. "When I first met you, you were sad and scared for your life, but I still saw someone who knew that even though she was defeated, she could still fight back. This is your opportunity just as much as mine and Windham's to tell this guy, Charlie, to fuck right off. You're done with him. You can't let one minor thing like worrying about me get in the way of that, Scar. You wouldn't have before, would you?"

"But it's not about before-"

"You think about it and you didn't exactly say it but I knew what you meant when you were talking about 'the old Scarlett,' the person you once were. That person wouldn't worry about anyone else if it meant making sure she was happy, would she?"

She thought about that life, that scenario where she'd simply exact revenge regardless of who'd get hurt. It felt good to think about doing something without taking caution. "…No she wouldn't." He nodded at the reply, but she couldn't let him be right. "But maybe this is a smaller but good change; maybe it's good that I care…"

"Of course it's _good_, Scarlett; I expect nothing less out of you. But it's…wrong. It's unnecessary. This guy is threatening my life, threatening one of my best friends' life, and just after tonight he's threatening yours, and you wanna try to spare him for the sake of non-violence? It can't work like that anymore…" He stopped his train of thought when he saw a tear trickle down her cheek, and he became frustrated thinking that somehow, some way, he upset her. "What the hell did I say now?"

"No, no," she insisted and held her hands up, "it's not you. I just…I should've told you…"

His heart sank at her words. "Told me what…?" He watched her gaze move from the marble sink back up to his eyes in his reflection, and as she took a breath, he lifted his head from her shoulder to brace himself. Whatever she had to say though, it couldn't be worse than her telling him that she still loved Charlie. And somewhere inside he strongly doubted that was what she was going to say.

"That I…"

In one swift moment, she snatched the small, open bottle of cologne on the counter and positioned it quickly in her hand to point backward, allowing her to spray a heavy mist into his eyes and temporarily blinding him. He didn't have time to restore his vision, however, as he cursed and tried to desperately wipe his eyes but felt an immediate numbness and saw complete darkness as she slammed his head onto the counter.

He lay on the tiled floor completely motionless as she wiped the tear from her cheek, trying her best to hold back any more tears she felt coming on.

She walked out of the bathroom calmly, and as she headed toward the bedroom door, Windham came rushing in, panicked after he heard the loud thud coming from the bathroom. When he rushed up to Scarlett, she took all of her strength into her right hand and grasped the side of Windham's head before slamming it into the closet mirror that wasn't broken. He fell to the carpeted floor, glass spilling by his feet as he slowly ceased movement.

She continued to the living room, where Rick was sitting against the couch, holding his phone in his hand. When he saw her approaching, he held it out, smirking a little to himself. She snatched the phone away from him and dialed a number, feeling her bottom lip quiver but she refused to cry.

"Don't hit so hard next time; I almost got a concussion from that one slap to the back of the head."

She raised the phone to her ear, shaking her head slowly. "I should've hit you harder…" Someone picked up the line. "It's done. Get the guys to pick them up." She hung up the phone and threw it back in Rick's lap, taking in a deep breath.

"No wonder Charlie's got a hard-on for you; you're so good at-"

"Just shut up, Rick." She combed her hands through her hair, starting to pace and keep her cool, but it wasn't working.

"…Don't tell me you were _actually_ in love with that guy…"

"I _am_ in love with him, okay?"

"Then what the hell are you helping Charlie for? You know he's gonna kill you if you tell him that…"

"He's not going to kill me."

But after tonight's change of plans, she wasn't sure who was in control of that anymore.

* * *

****AUTHOR'S NOTE:** WE MAY NOT BE IN WCW BUT...YOU GOT SWERVED.


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